


Money, Power and Other Disasters | Jeon Jungkook {ON HIATUS}

by Slightly_Obsessive



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slightly_Obsessive/pseuds/Slightly_Obsessive
Summary: Acceptance of where one stands is a crucial part of a functioning society, at least, that's what Song Hyeji's mother always told her. Her place at the country's most elite university had been guarunteed since she was born, silver spoon in her hand, and a fortune to her name.Everything had alreaddy been decided for her, and Hyeji was happy to obey, because it's what will make her mother happy. But when she moves away to university, it seems that the rest of her upper class world has other plans.Let the power games begin...





	1. 1

I look down at my registry ticket. My first appointment is at 11 o’clock, forty minutes from now.

“You’re to present yourself well. Be polite, as I have brought you up to be. You are a respectable, powerful young woman and you will ensure that everyone who sees you knows that.”

“Yes, Mother.” I look her directly in the eyes, as I have always been told to.

“Good. Your place will be secure, even before you file your application.”

“I will make sure of it, Mother.” The car reaches the top of the driveway and circles around the back of the bronze statue, depicting the founder of the university.

“You are the face of the company today. Do us proud.”

“As always, Mother.” I smile politely as one the ushers opens the car door for me. I thank him and walk up the steps to the mansion’s front patio without turning back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss heir-to-the-throne Song.” I don’t need to turn to be able to see the silvery-blonde hair of a young man I’ve known for far too long. I want to make a snarky remark, throw an equally patronizing comment back in his face. But the shrill voice of my mother reminds me that I am a public figurehead today and that I should behave accordingly.

“Park Jimin.” I turn and bow ever so slightly. “How are you?”

“Confused,” he frowns. I raise an eyebrow and smirk.

“Are you looking forward to the Open Day?”

“This is the only place worthy of my talents, so it had better be good.”

“When is your first appointment?”

“11 o’clock. It’s the campus tour. I have the introductory talks straight after.”

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence. I have the same.”

Jimin pauses, then smile. “Then shall we go together?” He offers me his arm; he’s playing along.

I suck air in sharply between my teeth. “Ooh, you know, there could be reports of a scandal if we’re seen together.”

“We’re childhood friends, no harm done.”

I raise my eyebrow again. But, taking his arm, I obligingly walk with him over to the tour guide stand. No harm done.

-

“Well that was complete waste of time.”

“Don’t be like that. The buildings are very beautiful.” The day spent with Jimin hasn’t been quite as excruciatingly painful as I imagined it would be.

“I suppose you have a course lecture to go to.”

“Yes, and you should go to yours. Perhaps I will see you before you go home.” Leaving him, I look down at the map and orientate myself towards a grey stone building across the neatly trimmed gardens, a little away from the main mansion building. I hold my head up high, I have every right to be proud of myself and my family. I try not to look at the people I pass, they are beneath me, but I can’t help but notice the stares and eyes that drop. I allow myself to smile a little. Even my mother would have smiled.

The talk itself is very engaging; the teachers seem enthusiastic enough. I’d never usually says anything so rash, but I can’t wait for these months to go by. I can’t stand my private tutors and feel so bored without anyone but the servants to talk to.

The university has people carrying trays of champagne flutes, filled to brim with the bubbling liquid, around the patio at the back of mansion overlooking the garden. I walk back along the white, dusty path, climb the steps and take the glass offered to me. I see the silvery-blonde head alone at the corner of the balcony.

“Any good?” I stand beside him, looking over at the rose bushes clustered within a square of hedges.

“Not bad, but it’s not like the university can’t afford the expensive stuff.”

“Not the alcohol, moron. You’re subject talk.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really listen.”

I roll my eyes, take a sip. “It’s photography you want to do, isn’t it?”

“The talk was on fashion economics or something. That’s what my dad booked me in for.”

“Oh, and do we always do what daddy tell us to do?” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

“Give over, I’m already hanging by a thread as it is.” If he wasn’t such an arrogant brat, I might feel a little sorry for him. “My chauffer’s here. I’ll see you around, I suppose.” He puts his phone away and gives me his award-winning smile.

“I hope so.” I play my little role one last time, watching him until his out of sight.

“You know Park Jimin?” A deep voice comes from behind me.

I turn to see a very tall young man, bleached blonde hair, an intelligent frown on his face. “Yes, we were childhood…friends.”

“You seem quite close now.”

“You should really know how these things work, Kim Namjoon. I have an image to uphold.”

“Don’t we all?” he sniggered, coldly. “After all, we don’t want another scandal between you and the Parks. Speaking of which, I trust your family are doing well?” He takes a dig.

“You’d hope, they practically own yours.” I dig right back.

He takes a swift step towards me. “You’ll watch how you speak to your senior.”

I smirk. “People are watching, Namjoon-ah. You don’t want people thinking badly of you, do you?” He backs off and glares at me. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive,” I say, merely to save both our faces. “Did you hear about the new breakthrough in the new vaccine for sepsis. They say it’s going to save thousands more lives in the near future.”

“That is good news.” Things are awkward now.

“My driver will be here soon. I’ll see you in the new year.” I finish the champagne and sweep through the crowd into the mansion. As I strut through the entrance hall, towards the open double doors, I run into something. I’m met with a pair of brown eyes, a little timid and trembling. They drop along with a head of brown hair.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Song,” the boy mumbles.  
I’m tempted to ask him to speak up, to repeat himself. He clearly does know who I am. But instead I say, “it’s quite alright.” I don’t recognize him. He’s probably a servant or something, no one important.  
“Did you present yourself well?”

“Yes, Mother,” I say as I get into the car.

“Good.” She doesn’t look any more unimpressed than she usually does. That’s always a good sign.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I’ve decided to change the reader insert to the name I have chosen for the character (Song Hyeji). I did this because I feel that her character is going to become slightly unrelatable and I want her to seem some what detached. However, I want to keep the first-person format for later in the story. I hope you will still read and enjoy it. ~ Hyeya X

3 months later…  
“A letter has arrived for you,” The butler, Mr Lee, brings a silver tray, a thick, cream envelope on it, into the living room.

I close my book, stand from the chair and walk over to him. “Thank you,” I say, taking the envelope and the letter opener. The letter inside is an acceptance letter to the university. I smile; it was to be expected.

“What have you got there?” My mother enters the room. “Your acceptance letter?” I nod. “I didn’t quite hear you, Hyeji.”

“Yes, Mother,” I articulate.

“Better. Now get your suite confirmed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

I find Mr Lee down in the servant’s quarters, just outside the kitchen. “Have a suite in the Jupiter Halls reserved for me. The letter contains my log-in details.”

“Yes, Miss.”

I walk into the kitchen; a few of the chefs incline their heads politely as I pass. Although they are all aware that I feel uncomfortable with people I’m familiar with bow to me, but I silently appreciate the thoughtful disregard for my wishes. “Mrs Kang, what’s for dinner,” I ask our head chef.

“An assortment of seafood, Miss, with fresh vegetables from the garden. Though I understand you’ve had some good news, so I believe a special for dessert is in order.”

“Thank you, Mrs Kang.”

“Congratulation on getting in, Miss.”

“Thank you, Mrs Kang.” I say it like things are different, but I was always going to get that place. It is what I wanted, after all.

-

8 months later…  
The car finally pulls up to the front of the mansion. It has taken almost twenty minutes to get from the gates at the bottom of the drive to the gravel circle outside the university building. I pull out my headphones and grab my hand luggage. My chauffeur opens the car door.

“Get my cases out as quickly as possible. I’m going to register my arrival; you are to go straight to my suite. Hurry up, we’re late as it is,” I order, stepping out into the cold sunlight. We aren’t late, but we’re much later than I would have liked to be.

“Yes, my lady.”

I get out my phone, call my mother.

“You’ve only just arrived? You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Mother. There are a lot of people arriving at the same time.”

“Make sure you aren’t late for anything else.”

“I won’t, Mother.” But she has already hung up. “What’s taking so long?” I snap at the chauffeur.

“Sorry, my lady.”

“You will be, if I don’t make registration.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I make my way up the step to the patio, whilst my chauffeur follows a group heading for the couches waiting to take them to the halls. Several desks have been set up in the entrance hall for registration. I see a lot of people I know. I bow politely to parents who have come with their heirs, even to those who I don’t recognize, you never know what kind of power they have.

When there is a free desk, the woman sitting at it smiles up at me as I approach. “Can I see your identification please?”

“Is that really necessary?” I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“We just need to scan it, as an official log of your arrival.”

I roll my eyes, run my tongue across my top row of teeth, fish out my ID from my bag, through it down without looking at the woman.

“Thank you, Miss Song. Here is your room key and a programme of event that will be taking place over the next week. You can go to your suite now.” I walk away, tossing my hair out of my eyes. 

Out on the front patio, I am expected to wait for a car to take me to the halls. A group of students has already formed where the cars a rolling up and pulling away. 

“Hyeji-ya.” I’m alarmed by the informality until I see Park Jimin waving at me. He’s beckoning me over to him. I oblige.

“What do you want?”

“You know, each time I’ve seen you over this past year, the further up your arse that pole seems to be getting.” I glare at him, unamused. “Case and point. I saw you in the entrance hall and saved us a car.” He opens the door for me.

“Isn’t that the driver’s job?” I ask, getting into the back of the car.

“No harm ever came from show a little courtesy.” I scoff. Jimin gets in one the other side. “I hear you get the pleasure of staying in the same halls as myself.”

“You have a suite in Jupiter as well?” He nods, smiling, and I turn away, rubbing my forehead. “For fuck sake,” I mumble, hoping he doesn’t hear. All I want is three quiet years to get my degree and move on to inherit my family’s business. Suddenly things aren’t looking to go as smoothly as I’d hoped.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Hyeji-ya. Now that your mother’s off your back, you can actually have some fun.” Jimin reaches over a softly hits my shoulder.

“You watch how you talk about my mother,” I snap, eyes wide in alarm. “And I’m not here to have fun. I’m here to learn and achieve.”

“Boy, are you in for a dull three years?” he laughs. I don’t. I just grab my bag and get out of the car when it stops.

Jupiter Halls is the biggest of the accommodation buildings. My mother made sure I had a place here, only the best for our family, she said. It’s an even older mansion that the main university building; green and red climbers cover the sides and most of the front. The front door is open and a somewhat welcoming yellow glow spills out into the grey outdoors.

“What suite are in?” Jimin stands next to me.

“Seventeen,” I say and move on ahead. I show the young man at inside my key. He points me to the stairs, telling me to go to the top floor.

“Wait up, Hyeji.”

“Jimin, we aren’t sharing a room. And we aren’t around other people now, you can stop pretending to be nice to me.”

“You know, I wish you’d at least pretend.” He’s pouting; I don’t have to look at him to know.

Jimin’s room is number twenty, at the other end of the corridor. Before we can unlock our doors, burst out of room fifteen. It turns and almost blinds me with its huge smile.

“Jung Hoseok.” It turns out to be a young man who, still beaming, bows quickly.

“Jung, as in the law firm?” I ask, returning his greeting.

“Yes.”

“I’m Song Hyeji.”

“I know, yes. And you must be Park Jimin? Welcome to Jupiter Halls. You’ll be attending the Halls Welcome Party tonight, I hope?”

“We’ll be there!” Jimin answers for the both of us. I don’t object. Never pass on an opportunity to make connection, my mother always says.

“Have you met Jennie? She’s in nineteen. There’s a boy in sixteen but it didn’t quite catch him. I’m off to do some party preparations so I’ll see you two there.” His smile seems to get impossibly wider. “I think you’ll really like it here.” He disappears down the stairs almost as quickly as he appeared.

“I know Jennie. She modelled a few times at our company. She’s really sweet, and funny too.”

“Marry her then.” I don’t look at Jimin before I push open the door to my suite.  
The suite opens straight into a bright living area, a desk and some shelves next to the window. Everything looks very clean. The door to my left lead to the bedroom. There is a double bed, two bedside tables and another desk under the window. The wardrobe takes up the entire wall at the end of the bed. All my cases have been placed beside the bed. I walk back into the main room, pondering why the bath room is opposite, not joined to, the bedroom. But I can’t complain too much; compared to a couple of the other halls, this place is palace.

-

There is a knock on the door. I groan and stand up, slipping my second earring in. 

“Wow!” Jimin’s eyes bulge as I open the door. “You look just…stunning.”

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, may I escort you don’t to the party?”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t. I’m perfectly capable of walking myself down some stairs and into a room.” The look I give him makes him shrug, giving in and heading towards the stairs.

About ten minutes later, I exit my suite, tucking the key into my clutch purse. At the same time, someone comes out of the room opposite mine, number sixteen. It’s the young man who bumped into me on the open day. I stop, look at him more closely; if he’s staying in these halls, surely I’d recognise him. He is in a smart black suit and a face one is unlikely to forget.

“Miss Song.” He bows quite low. I feel a little uncomfortable, like his knowledge of my identity means he has someone over me, which is highly unlikely.

“And you are?” My voice comes out stiff, nowhere near as calm as I wanted it to be.

“Jeon Jungkook,” he mumbles timidly, a little pink rising in his cheeks. Now that I know that we’re probably both feeling equally uncomfortable, all I can think to do is nod to him in acknowledgement of his existence and hold my head high as I walk along the corridor and down the stairs.

“Oh God, finally!” Jimin stands by the door to the ballroom and hands me a glass full of something pink and bubbling. I can only take it and try to forget about the man who would inevitably be following down the stairs.


	3. 3

slide my already half-filled portfolio into my bag. It’s been just over a month since the year began and I’m feeling like the work load isn’t as high as it should be. I don’t feel enough stress to distract me from the abnormal normality of this school. Everyone seems friendly and there is none of the family tension I was expecting. At least, with everyone else bar me. I always seem to be the last one to leave the class room; perhaps people are running away. I wouldn’t be surprised.

People parade around the campus like it’s some sort of utopian drama, where everyone gets along. Perhaps Jimin had a point when he said that people can have fun here; there are no restraints from parents, no need to work too hard – if you have enough money, you can pretty much guarantee you’ll get the degree you want. And yet, there is a horrible, underlying edge, an invisible hierarchy that everyone can see but no one openly acknowledges. Fortunately, I find myself right at the top and nobody can drag me down.

Somebody manages to shoulder-barge me as I walk down the corridor, even though it is almost empty. I stop and turn towards the person who bumped into me. He has stopped too. There are whispers and people begin to move away, either out into the courtyard or walking in opposing direction.

The boy turns slowly on his heel, a worried expression on his rather handsome face. “Sorry.”

I open my mouth and he winces. I close it and sigh. “Are you incapable of using your eyes?”

“I was distracted.”

“Do you know who I am?” Aware of how I sound, I can only hope that he takes it better than some other people have done.

“The Queen.” He straightens up and gives me a genuine smile.

“I do not appreciate mockery.”

“No, that’s what they call you around here. I know your real names, it’s just, I think Queen suits you more.”

“And who, pray, might you be?” I’ve never seen his face before, so I doubt he is anyone important, but his confidence is intriguing.

“I’m just a scholarship student; Kim Taehyung.” He offers me his hand. I wrinkle my nose, reluctantly shaking it.

“Goodbye, Kim Taehyung.”

I begin to walk away when he chirps up; “Where are you going?”

“That really isn’t any of your concern.”

“For troubling you,” and I can sense his mockery again. “Can’t I walk you to wherever you’re going.”

“No.”

“Is that it then?”

“I haven’t anything else to say. To continue this conversation is a waste of your time as well as mine.”

“No walk with the Queen then?”

“Not today.”

-

I enter the dining hall a little while after the dinner rush. Most of the tables are empty so I don’t have to worry about having to sit near other people. I glance at the today’s menu board and approach the counter.

“I’ll have the sushi, and hold the extra rice.” The woman nods and goes into the kitchens. She soon returns and hands me a warm rectangular place. I pick up some chopsticks and slip into a booth by the window, overlooking the gardens. Students wonder, laughing, some sprawled across the grassy areas. I roll my eyes and begin to eat.

“Well, look who it is?” Someone sits opposite me.

“What do you want?” I say, not looking up.

“Is that any way to talk to your superior, ‘Namjoon-ah’?”

“Piss off, Namjoon.”

“Oh, come now. You aren’t making a very good impression on the new friend I brought for you.”

“I don’t have friends. I don’t need friends.”

“Song Hyeji, right?” I sacrifice a glance upwards the new voice. “My parents work under your family’s company.”

“These days, it seems most people do.”

“You’ve lost your sense of humour, but it’s nice to see that your respect for your superiors has stayed the same.”

I set down the chopsticks, fold my arms and look at the new acquaintance. “What do I call you?”

“Jackson.”

“Jackson, what is it that your parents do?”

“My mother works in one of your distribution centres. It’s a desk jobs, but it pays well. Dad is a maintenance engineer for the manufacturing equipment.” The blonde boy radiates pride.

“And how do they like their employers?”

“They are happy, as far as I know. I don’t see much of them.”

“They must be hard workers then.” I turn to Namjoon. “I trust your parents are also satisfied with their positions.”

“With the amount that they get paid, what not to like.”

I nod. “I have to leave you now.” I stand and walk over to put my plate in the racks provided. I pull out my phone and called my mother.

“Is something wrong, Hyeji?”

“No, Mother. I just wanted to tell you that I have met with two young men whose parents work for us. They are happy with their positions and have nothing negative to report.”

“It that what you called me for?” I know immediately that I’ve made a mistake. I can only do my best to patch it up and end this conversation as soon as possible.

“I thought maybe you might like an update on your employee satisfaction rates.”

“If I cared about the opinions of minors, I would have a survey sent out. I am one of the most powerful people in the country; I don’t need gratification from people who are easily replaced.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not. I’m not impressed by the use of your time. You shouldn’t be associating with people lower than yourself. Your father and I were very kind in letting you have free reign over what you chose to do at university, but that certainly does not mean that you can slack off. Because it is your choice, I expect all of your attention to be focused on doing well. Do you understand me, Hyeji?”

“Yes, Mother. I will not disappoint you again.”

“Work hard.”

“Yes, Mother,” but she has already hung up on me.

I think back to my encounter with the scholarship student. What would my mother have said if she knew? It won’t happen again; words I now have to live by. I have been brought up to learn from my mistakes. I can’t disappoint my mother again.


	4. 4

By the time my last lecture finishes on Thursdays, the Arts Building is almost empty. I'm about to walk around a corner when I hear familiar voices. Stopping and pressing my back against a pillar that hides me from view, I listen.

“Seems as if your family is struggling to make ends meet. Why are you even here? How selfish do you have to be to do that to your family?” Kim Namjoon. Why am I not surprised?

“I-I'm here with a scholarship, s-so the, the payment is reduced. And they are happy I am here.” Kim Taehyung. What surprises me now is the sheer terror in his voice. All the charisma from when he spoke to me earlier this week has gone. 

“Sure. They are probably happy that they don't have to deal with such a self-centred brat anymore.” This voice is less familiar but I can still remember it.

“My parents love me.” Taehyung is trying to be strong now but I don't know why he bothers. He is going to be crushed so he might as well let it be over with.

“Well, isn't that nice? You think that just because somebody thought you had a smidgen of talent, you can barge into this place and pretend that you belong here.” It's the faceless voice again. This time, I edge towards the turn of the corner and twist my head just enough to catch a glance of the situation.

Taehyung has his back to me, and two other young men are facing in my direct. I shift back to my original position and sigh. The other voice came from Min Yoongi, a man who stands shorter than the other two but is certainly the most intimidating of the three. He stays on my floor in Jupiter Halls, in the suite opposite Jimin's. He doesn't speak to anyone, as far as I know, and I have barely seen him anywhere. Our paths don't tend to cross, though you might expect it seen as I study Graphic Design and he studies Computer Science, which raises the question as to what both he and Namjoon are doing in the Arts Building.

Namjoon speaks again. “I'm quite disgusted that I have to share a family name with you. Know your place, Kim Taehyung, otherwise things will start getting very hard for you.”

“Song Hyeji, what a pleasant surprise.” The sound of my name makes my insides tense.

“Jackson,” I incline my head a few millimetres, my mother’s face flashing in forefront of my mind.

“Namjoon said he would meet me here; have you seen him?”

I see this as my chance. “But he studies neuro-science. What would he be doing here?”

“He said he needed to speak to someone.” So, he must have targeted Taehyung. I wouldn't be surprised if he was targeting other scholarship students as well.

Before I can speak, I hear footsteps approaching. Namjoon and Yoongi appear.

“And here’s me thinking that you’re a total kill-joy.” Namjoon smirks at me. “Thanks for not interrupting our little game.” He walks away with a sheepish-looking Jackson. Yoongi stays, non-so-subtly raking his eyes from my toes to the top of my head and back down again. I don’t give him the benefit of an acknowledgement, simply lifting my chin and staring away from him until he slinks away with the other two.

I stand still from a few moments, trying to decide what to do. My mother’s voice rings in my ears, telling me not to go near anyone lower than myself, especially not to the extent that Taehyung is. There are far better, more productive things that I could be doing with my time. But in the back of my mind, something pushes me to look around the corner again. I don’t want to but I need closure.

Taehyung leans against the railing on the balcony side of the corridor, which overlook the foyer of the building as well as allowing you to see all of the other corridors in the building. An interesting design, but it’s what stopped me from just being able to walk away in the first place.

He is shaking, but he isn’t crying. And somebody is now standing with him. That’s all I need to see. I turn on my heel and walk in the direction of the staircase.

I’m almost at the bottom when eyes involuntarily sweep to the second-floor balcony. The two young men are still there. I can see who the other person is now; Jeon Jungkook. He was staring at me, but a fraction after I looked, he turned away. Does he know that I saw what had happened and hadn’t done anything? Did he do the same? Either way, who is he to judge me? Who indeed…

Once I realize that I have stopped and am still staring, I start for the bottom the stair again and pull out my phone.

“Hello, Mr Lee?”

“Yes. What can I do for you, my lady?”

“Get me all the information you can on Jeon Jungkook. I want everything; where he was born, his parents’ occupation, what he is studying, medical records, everything.”

“I’m not sure I can get all of that, for legal reasons, my lady.”

“I don’t care, just do it. And not a word of this to my mother, do you hear?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good.”

Just as I exit the building, a girl bounds up to me.

“Excuse me, Miss.” I stop. “Sorry,” she composes herself and bows properly. “Miss, please, have you seen Kim Taehyung? I have been waiting out here for him since classes ended.

“He is still inside.”

“Is he alone?”

“No, he is with some.”

“Did he seem okay?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” I thought answering them would be the quickest way to get away from her, but clearly not. So, I start to walk away.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been worried about him, you see.” She starts to follow me. “We both attend the same Drama Studies lectures and I’ve noticed that he seems to be acting really paranoid, like somebody is watching him.”

“Maybe that’s because that somebody is you,” I sniff. She laughs. It wasn’t supposed to be funny.

“I just worry the because of his scholarship, people will treat him differently. But he seems to have friends so I should really stop being so concerned.”

“Wow. Are you really that naïve?” I stop walking just as we enter the gardens. “Do you actually think that people in this place like each other, that they care for anyone other than themselves?”

“Well, I…”

“Of course people are watching him. They are waiting for him to make the tiniest slip up so that they can get him out of here.”

“Would people really do that?” I take a proper look at her this time. She is very pretty, but does have that slightly innocent look about her. I can’t bring myself to be angry, not now. So, I try to explain.

“People who can afford to come to this university feel entitled to a place here. Anyone else, i.e the scholarship students, are just taking up a place that could be filled by another rich person.”

“Then why is there a scholarship programme?”

“Well, most people don’t think of that.”

“You speak of the other students as separate to you. I don’t know whether that’s because you’re the Queen and think you’re better than everyone else, or because you think differently. What do you think about scholarship students?”

I pause before speaking. At this point, I am way beyond they subtle insult the girl threw at me as I try to recall the last time somebody asked for my opinion. Giving up quickly, I swallow and stop walking again. I sigh and drop my eyes to the ground, something I know my mother would greatly disapprove of. But for a moment, I’m going to pretend I am someone else’s daughter, just for a second, because being asked what I think feels greater than anything I can ever remember feeling.

“Are you okay, Song Hyeji?”

“I think,” and I beckon her closer. “I think that anyone who is smart or talented enough to get into this university has as much right to be here as those whose parent pay for their place.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because if anyone heard me give my opinion, it would go straight to my mother and I would be disowned.”

“She must be a handful.”

I shoot her a stern look. “That’s my mother you’re talking about. She is one of the most powerful people in the country, perhaps the continent. I love her and she loves me; she just wants the best for me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” She drops her eyes for a second, but springs back just as quickly. “I’m Lisa, by the way. That’s sort for Lalisa.”

“Monoban, yes. I know.”

“Do you want to grab some dinner with me?”

“I prefer to eat alone.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you later then? And one more thing, can I call you Hyeji?”

“If you must.” I find it horribly difficult not to smile as she dances away waving and grinning back at me. I shake off this feeling and become my mother’s daughter again; what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.


	5. 5

My phone buzzes. It’s Mr Lee.

“I looked into Jeon Jungkook, just like you asked me to.”

“Keep it down, Mr Lee,” I hiss.

“I’ve moved to the servants’ quarters, my lady. Your mother never comes down here. She doesn’t know anything.”

“What did you find out?”

“He was born in the capital, into a family who were middle class at the time. Because his parents were going up in the world, he was pretty much raised by a nanny and any servants they were able to hire. This doesn’t seem to have had a negative effect on him; his medical records contain nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Why couldn’t his parents raise him? What were they doing?”

“His parents are actually top researchers in our labs. They’re the ones who created the sepsis vaccine last year. They’re two of our best.”

“Okay.”

“There’s more. Your mother is furious because they are wanting to quit; it’s something to do with spending more time with their son.”

“What?” I shriek. “They can't do that, if they’re as important as you say they are. And their son is a man now, he doesn't need his parents. If they wanted to raise their child, they should have quit twenty years ago; they had their chance.”

“You sound just like you mother.” I’m not sure what it is, most likely pride, that flushes through me at the thought of being compared to my mother.

“I'll make sure they stay under us.”

“May I ask how?”

“I'm just going to talk to him. Is there anything you can tell me about the boy himself?”

“Only that he is exceptionally clever, but flunked a lot of his academic studies in favour of art. He has his own blog. I can text you the link if you like.”

“Yes. If that is everything, that will be all.” I hang up.

-

I flip over the page in my sketchbook. My mother always says if something isn’t working for you, get rid of it. My professor says never to get rid of any ideas. I suppose if I pretend I haven’t seen it, it’ll be like it was never there.

“That one was good.”

I look up. Min Yoongi is hovering over my shoulder. I lean away. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I use the computers for work?”

“Don’t you have your own lab in the Science Building?”

“That place is full of nerds.” At this I almost laugh, but all I can manage is a cold smirk. Yoongi sits down next to me; again, I shift away. Something about him seems dangerous and somewhat sickening. “What are you doing?”

“I was doing some work but I can’t seem to get it right.”

“Can’t I help you?”

“No,” I snap, standing quickly and packing my things away.

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t be like that.” I feel a hand touch my waist. Slapping it away, I give the smirking young man a look of utter disgust.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I just wanted to make things easier for you.”

“Well, you can make things easier by…” I pause, but only for a fraction of a second as I search for an advantage point. “By telling me why Namjoon is targeting scholarship students.”

“Showing concern for the peasants, are we? What would your mother think?”

“My mother,” I yell, before stopping and speaking more calmly (as my mother taught me to). “My mother values information on her employees. If I am able to gain an understanding of your despicable friend, I...we might be able to use him in the future. Now, explain.” I notice him gradually draw back in his chair after each of my statements; I know I have him.

Yoongi sighs. “Namjoon wants what a lot of people here want; the illusion of power. Thanks to Your Majesty, the majority of the people at this university, including the staff are pretty much quivering under your thumb. You’ve got his balls in a clamp and your hands at the ready. But if he can feel just a little bit like you, that’s good enough for him. Scholarship students are an easy target. It doesn’t take a genius to work that out.”

“Where does he plan to stop?”

“Who knows? Who knows…?”

“And what about you? Are you after a taste of the high life?”

“Nah, I just do it because it’s fun.”

I lift my bag and make for the door. “You disgust me, you really do.”

“You and I are alike, you know. More alike than you’d like to think,” he calls as I reach for the door.

“No,” I pause. “We aren’t alike at all. I don’t terrorize people for no reason. I don’t have time to waste on low lives like Kim Taehyung.” And just before I close the door behind me; “Oh, and if you’re planning to continue wasting your pathetic little life, you might as well die now and rid the world of your disgraceful behaviour.”

-

I take a deep breath, knock on his door and wait, breathe out. It only takes a couple of seconds for him to open it.

“Song Hyeji, how can I help you?” Jungkook’s voice is as timid as it was when we encountered each other the first time, if not more so. 

“Aren't you going to invite me in?”

“Of course. Of course, yes. Come in.” He stands aside, bowing.

“Are you aware that your parents are threatening to quit their jobs?” 

“I think I remember them saying something about a career change before I came out here. Please sit down.” I perch pointedly on the edge of one of the sofas in the living area, and he sits opposite me. His suite seems to be a reflection of my own, apart from the fact that his desk is a mess of papers and pens, his laptop drowning in it all. “I'm sorry about the mess,” he says, sheepishly. 

“And are you aware that you are the reason they are quitting?” I continue, as if he never said anything.

“I wasn't aware of that, Miss.”

“Apparently, they want to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” He seems almost hopeful.

“Well, as you will surely know, they are two of our best. We cannot afford to lose them simply because they have suddenly decided to become family people.”

Jungkook drops his head. “I barely saw them when I was younger. They worked long hours, so I was always already asleep when they came home.” I can't tell whether or not he is crying. “Sure, I was loved and I thought I was happy. But I regret that whenever we meet nowadays, it feels like we’re strangers.

I almost want to show him sympathy, but I know that I can’t. “You're at university now. They won't be able to see you that often anyway.” He raises his head but doesn't look at me. I get out my phone and open up the link to his art blog. “You could potentially become successful in this field.” I show him the screen. “They weren’t there for this. You can continue in the same way.” He glances up, briefly making eye contact before sitting up and looking away. “You're going to talk them out of it.”

“I knew you'd say that,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “But what if I can't?” 

“You’re their son, and it’s obvious they already feel bad because they haven’t been there for you. They are malleable to your will; use that.” I stand up and walk towards the door. “And if you fail, you will be the one to suffer the consequences.”

“You know,” his voice a little bolder now that I'm facing away from him. “You've changed a lot since I met you on the open day.”

“I was irresponsible and didn’t know where I stood back then; I've grown up. Speaking to your parents isn’t a strenuous task. I expect it done." I exit the room without look back, just hoping that I’ve done enough.


	6. 6

I walk into the kitchen, wondering if I should bother with breakfast. The boys living on my floor are lounging on the sofas in what serves as a living area, whilst Jennie stands over hob with a tall, young man that I’ve never seen before.

“Morning,” a few of them mumble.

“Is it?” I ask, stiffly.

“We made muffins. Would you like one?” Jennie offers me a plate of them.

“For breakfast? I think I’ll skip.”

“You shouldn’t skip breakfast; it isn’t good for you,” the young man says.

“I can’t remember the last time my mother ate breakfast, and she is in fantastic shape.”

“If you could call chronically underweight ‘fantastic shape’ then yeah, sure.”

I swivel to glare at Jimin after his snide remark. “You watch how you talk about my mother.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met.” The new addition to the floor clips the end of my sentence. “I’m Kim Seokjin, a friend of Jennie’s.”

I bow, not knowing how important he might be. “Song Hyeji.”

“You must eat. Your brain won’t be able to function if you don’t eat.”

“You might be able get that drawing finished if you eat something.” I don’t even give Yoongi the satisfaction of an unimpressed grimace. I simply grab a muffin from the plate and pick at the top.

With a faint contented hum, I tear off a little more. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Jennie giggles.

“Take it,” Jimin says. “That’s the best compliment I think I’ve ever heard her give. Oh, except when she talks about that exceptional mother of hers.”

“I can still hear you,” I say, after walking out of the kitchen.

“Before you leave,” somebody comes up behind me. I turn back to meet the ever-present smile of Jung Hoseok. “Here.” He hands me two tickets. “We’re having a party here in the halls at the end of the week. One’s for you, the other a plus one. It would be great if you could come.”

“Who told you to say that?”

“No, seriously, it would be great of you to be there, whether for business or pleasure.” He winks playfully and returns to his seat on the sofa.

I look at the tickets. Who could they possibly think I would give the other one to? Even so, I place them in my bag pocket and make my way out of Jupiter dorms.

-

The Arts Building is very busy considering the time of day, though not a lot of work seems to be getting done. Most people just seem to be leaning over the balconies, talking and being generally unproductive. But they at least have the decency to move when I try to get up the stairs.

“Hyeji-unnie!” It’s Lisa. She’s waving to me from a balcony to my right. I continue up the steps and she meets me at the top of the flight. “Hyeji, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Hey, are you going to the Jupiter party at the weekend?” She’s as hyper as she was when I first met her.

“I don’t think so. I have better things to do.”

“Better things to do than getting drunk and dancing and talking to rich people?” She takes one look at my face and sighs. “Oh yeah, I forget; you’re a fun sponge.” Poking my shoulder, she smiles.

“Are you going to the party then?”

“Yes, Jennie gave me her spare ticket. It’s so exciting, going to a party with the richest people in the country. Of course, it probably makes no difference to you, but please come. You need to loosen up, pull that pole out of your arse.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. So I’ll definitely see you there? Great. Bye.” And she skips away without giving me a chance to answer. I’ll have to get Mr Lee to check her medical records; no healthy person should be this happy all the time, nor would I think they’d enjoy associations with me.

Shaking my head, I head back up the stairs. Just outside one of the design studios, I spot Taehyung at the other end of the corridor. He doesn’t see me as he walks towards the stairs.

“Kim Taehyung,” I call out, somewhat harshly. He turns and smiles nevertheless.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow.

“It’s fun to see your reaction. Now, what can I do for you.”

“Nothing.” I think back to Lisa’s excitement. “You don’t have plans for this Saturday evening, do you?”

“No, why?” he smirks. “Are you asking me out? Oh, what would your mother say?”

“You should be so lucky, commoner. I have a spare ticket to the Jupiter party this weekend. You could do with having some allies considering recent event. I was going to give it to you.”

“Would we be going together then?”

“No.”

“And they’ll still let me in?”

“You have a ticket, don’t you? I’ll ensure your name is put on the guest list. It’s a black-tie event, so dress appropriately.”

“Thank you, Miss Song. That’s very kind of you.” I can’t get over the look in his eyes; it’s as if no one has ever done anything for him his entire life. All I did was give him a ticket and he’s looking at me like I’ve given him water when he has been struggling through a desert.

I nod slightly, and walk away. I’m not best pleased to find Min Yoongi in the studio again. “How did you get here before me?”

“You were busy talking to the lower class.”

That look Taehyung gave me moments ago flashes in the front of my mind, and I almost think to defend him. But instead, I sit at one of the desks and get out some sketches that I did last night.

“You gave up then?”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“Nope, not when you make it so fun.”

“Why does everyone seem to think I’m fun today?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. Taking out a new sheet of paper, I begin to sketch out a new design, one for a garden. I hear a chair scrape next to me. “If you touch me, I’ll file a lawsuit against you for assault.”

“And you wonder why people think you’re fun to be around,” he chuckles. “You’re coming to this party, right?”

“If it’ll stop you all from nagging, then I’ll think about it. Happy?” I finally look at him, wanting to slap that smug grin off his face.

“For now.” Someone opens the door to the studio, bows to us both and goes to sit at one of the computers. “You’re lucky I have so much respect for other people,” Yoongi whispers in my ear. He gets up and starts tapping away on his laptop on the other side of the room. I shiver from the close proximity to something so vile, but turn back to my design and try to forget the morning.


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stressed so much over this chapter, like, I'm still blushing. And I did it all of you guys, so I hope you enjoy it.

I stand in my underwear at the end of my bed, sucking the inside of my cheek and staring down at the three dresses I’ve laid out. With my hair and makeup all done, I’ve been waiting around a while for the party to get started.

Unlike the welcome party, which was just in the ballroom, because of the extra guests, the party has been extended out into the mansion gardens. I can see from my window, fairy lights have been strung from tree branches, and lanterns hang around the garden and from the pavilion at the bottom. Just outside the ballroom doors, the patio has been extended to serve as a dance floor, which is currently empty. A few people stand on the lawn, holding champagne flutes and munching on nibbles. Even though it’s October, the temperature hasn’t dropped so much that it feels too cold to stand outside in cocktail dresses.

I pick up a dark red number; it’s strapless with a sweetheart neckline and an uneven hem. Slipping into it and hanging the other two dresses back in the wardrobe, I inspect myself in the mirror. Half of my hair I pinned up on the back of my head, leaving a few strands falling down at the front, and the rest curled at the back. I put on matching earrings, a choker, and red heels, before grabbing my clutch bag and leaving the room.

Before I enter the ballroom, a man looks at her ticket and checks my name off the list. I score the room for someone I know, and would be willing to talk to; but the only person who comes to mind is Jimin and he is nowhere in sight.

“You’re late!” says a voice behind me. I turn to see Kim Taehyung stumbling over to me. “And yet fashionably so.”

“It’s a party. You can’t be late to a party.” The doors opened only two hours ago and I can tell he’s already drunk.

“Oh, shush.” He takes my wrist, and I grace him with all of my pent-up forgiveness due to his alcoholically impaired state. “Let’s get you a drink.” We go out into the garden and over to a table laden with drinks of all kinds. “What would you like?”

It’s going to be a long night, I can tell, so I opt for some peach schnapps and lemonade to get things started. “So, who have you been speaking to?” I ask Taehyung, less wary about being seen with him considered most people probably won’t remember tonight.

“Oh, you know…”

“I know who?” He doesn’t answer. “You’ve been drinking alone? Oh come on, even I know that’s sad.”

“Well, I’m a commoner, aren’t I? I don’t exactly know anyone.”

“You clean up pretty well. You could pretend for one night.”

He laughs and pretend to take me glass away. “I think you’ve had enough to drunk for one night, Miss Song.”

“I’m just saying that no one will know, not for tonight,” I say, unamused.

“What about Namjoon and Yoongi?”

“Look at you, speaking on a first name basis. Don’t let them hear you talking like that. Trust me, my family is in pharmaceuticals; alcohol works wonders for your self-esteem. And it seems like you’ve had quite a lot already.”

We sit on one of the white chair swings set up in the garden. Not once do I look around to see if anyone is staring at us. Drink after drink, I feel more comfortable around him. He’s actually very funny and, I dare say, I would think so even if I wasn’t red-cheeked and light-headed. I learn a lot about him from his slurred answers to my questions. He’s from a happy, nuclear family, average amongst the lower class, living well for the money his family brings in. After a couple of interesting demonstrations of his acting skills I can just about see why he got the scholarship.

I don’t know how long it’s been before Taehyung excuses himself to the bathroom. I get up for another drunk, wobbling slightly on my heels as I walk over to the table. At this point, I’m onto Ireland’s finest whiskey with a little ice.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” A hand lands a little low on my hip. Looking up, I see one of the boys on my floor grins down at me, clearly wasted.

Shocking myself, I smile back. “Hello, Yugyeom. Could you please move your hand?”

“Up or down?”

“How about off?” I can’t even be mad.

“Your loss.” He backs away a little. “You know, you look so much prettier when you smile. Your scowl is so boring.”

There’s a crash from inside the ballroom. I wave my free hand at Yugyeom. “Here. Help me walk.”

We stumble into the ballroom. A small crowd has gathered around the food tables, one of which has been knocked over. I let go of Yugyeom and push through the young men and women shocked by the scene. I can’t say I’m surprised when I find Yoongi touching his lip, a little blood on his finger as he pulls his hand away. Towering over him is Taehyung, looking a little bewildered at his own strength, his hand still in a fist.

“Hold this.” I thrust my drink into someone’s hand. “There’s nothing to see here. I take full responsibility for this child. Go back to drinks, your friends, your slightly illegal dealings.” Looking up at Taehyung, I grab the lapel of his suit jacket. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You said stand up to them.”

“Did I fuck?”

“You need to keep control of your pet,” Yoongi spits from behind me.

“Don’t call him that!” I yell, much to my own surprise as well as others. I glance past him at the table and gasp. “You! You killed the brandy snaps!” Taking a swing at him, I catch his nose with the edge of my fist. Naturally, I lose my balance and fall into someone, who catches me firmly around the ribcage and brings me to my feet.

“Are you alright?”

I decide to ignore the saviour of my remaining dignity and turn, clicking my fingers. “Where’s my drink?” Lisa appears, an amused smile on her face. “Thank you, Lisa. Oh, before I forget!” I take her hand and lead her over to where Taehyung stands, now looking rather sheepish. “Taehyung, this is Lisa. Lisa, you know Taehyung. Eat, drink, chat, create dramatic and adorable children!” Leaving them both a little pink-earred and shy, I make my way back over to the remaining food tables and pick at the nachos.

“What’s up?” Park Jimin is standing beside me.

“I just gave away my drinking buddy, and with no benefit to myself.”

“You’ve got me. Ooh, cheese and mingling with common folk in one night. What’s mummy going to say?”

“I don’t give a fuck about my mother,” I blurt louder than I expected to. “That bitch ruined my life!” I can feel the anger bubbling up inside of me, like vomit. “Even when I was little, she shoved a pole up my arse and told me to walk straight. She always shuts down me and Dad because we’re not good enough for her. Like, why did I have to inherit the family business? Why did I have to study chemistry, biology and business? I could not give less of a shit about company profits, nor about distribution…whatever it’s called.” I pause, lowering my voice to its normal volume. “I suppose it isn’t so bad, because at least she isn’t selling my off to marry some arrogant enter…entreper…enpertre…entrepreneurial type, who would keep me as a trophy and then play with his little sluts on the side. But that doesn’t mean she can control me! That doesn’t mean she can go around making me feel like shit! It isn’t fair. I’d call her a whore if she wasn’t such a robot. God, I hate that woman! I mean, can you believe I’m actually related to her? Can you? Can you?!”

Jimin has been watching me rant, and soon the bewildered look on his face disappears and he begins to smile. “But you know, Hyeji-ya? Your mother isn’t here. She can’t spoil things for you now. A strong woman like you wouldn’t let that happen now, would you?”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not!” I down the rest of my drink and sling my arm around his waist. “Come, I need more drink. I’m still upset about those brandy snaps, you know.” I half expect him to say that I shouldn’t drink anymore, but I’m so glad that he doesn’t. My mother is out of the way, what could possibly stop me now?

Most people have moved outside to where the speakers are blasting out the latest dance tracks. Once Jimin and I have refilled our drinks, he leads me over to his group of friends.

Hoseok screams as soon as he sees me. “I’m so glad you decided to come!” He pulls me into a tight hug. I can’t help but giggle at his huge, contagious smile. He excuses himself and goes to talk with some older students.

Yugyeom is there with his plus one, his particularly loud friend. I don’t know his name, but everyone seems to be calling him Bam Bam, so I do the same. The fifth member of our group is quieter, often laughing at jokes but not really speaking himself. I feel bad for Jeon Jungkook. I know he doesn’t like me very much, and it’s not exactly ambiguous as to why. He was probably having a great time before I came along and joined the conversation. But tonight, I wasn’t going to let anything worry me, so as soon as one of my favourite songs came on, I dragged all four boys over to the dance floor.

As the floor is quite full at this point, we run into Lisa and Jennie, who are dancing with Taehyung and Seokjin. I dance with the girls for a little while, until I start to get dizzy. Very, very dizzy. After one spin too many, I almost fall again. But, yet again, I’m caught by a strong pair of arms around my waist. I thank whoever it is, who talks me hand and twirls me around to face them.

Judging by who his behaviour during the few times I have spoken to him, I never expected a smirk to look so good on Jungkook’s face. He’s still holding my waist – I don’t protest or move away – which means we are stood right up against each other. A thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead and I can smell the cologne on him. When he sees I’ve stopped smiling, his looks away but I bring his eyes back to mine with my free hand.

“Erm…I spoke to my parents about-”

But I place a finger on his lips and shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about that. This is my favourite song. Just shut up and dance with me.” 

The dance floor is filled with pairs of people swaying; the chatter has settled down considerably. I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy and so peaceful. Resting my head on Jungkook’s shoulder, I let him pull me even closer and brush his cheek against my hair. It feels like it’s just the two of us now, with my eyes closed, I can imagine that there isn’t anyone else in the world. No one that can ruin this moment for me…

And the song ends too soon. The world begins to turn again. People jostle past us, like we aren’t even there. I raise my head and look into his dark eyes again. They stare back quizzically. I bite my bottom lip and look away, but I can’t scrap together a single reason why this isn’t a good idea. Letting go of him with one hand and leading him inside and through the almost empty ballroom with the other. I’m surprised we made it to the bottom of the stairs before I turn and press my lips again his. We both slowly let out a sigh, like we’ve been waiting for this for the longest time. We break away to climb the steps, but only make it up one flight before I have to stop and kiss him again. And again. And again.

We lean against his door for I don’t know how long. I don’t care. His hands are everywhere they can reach. I pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him sigh and groan quietly. He unlocks the door without letting go of me. I honestly never expected him to be so accepting, considering everything I have thrown at him. I don’t want to think about that now, but I can’t help to kick myself for not seeing just how perfectly formed his features are, just how softly passionate his eyes are, and how that translates into every single touch he places across my skin.

Once we step into his bedroom, I waste no time in slipping out his suit jacket, undoing his tie and a few of his shirt buttons. I push him back on the bed, so that he’s looking up at me, resting back on his palms. Hitching up my skirt, I straddle him and begin kissing him again. I smile into the kiss as I feel his hands on my waist.

“Hyeji-ya…” he sighs, trailing of at the end. “Hyeji-ya?”

I pull away a little, our eyes so close to each other’s. “Yes?”

“This might be- ah!” he says as I begin trailing my lips down his jaw to his neck, running my hand under his shirt to expose his collarbones. “Trust me,” he pants slightly. “I want to do this, I do.” He places a hand under my chin to bring me back to his face. “I’d love to do this so much, but I don’t think you do.” 

“What do you mean?” I pout.

“You’re really really drunk, Hyeji-ya. You’re not thinking straight.” He presses a long, soft kiss on my swollen lips. “I just don’t want it to be like this. I don’t want you to regret a single moment of it.”

“But that about what I want?” I’m feeling a little more sober, but my head begins to spin.

“This might be what you want now, and maybe what you’ll want tomorrow. But I don’t want you beating yourself up like you always do if you wake up and it’s not what you want.”

I don’t want to agree with him. I just want him to be close to me, to touch me and hold me, the way we were just a few moments ago. But I get off him and sit on the bed, suddenly overcome with tiredness.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you like.” I nod. Jungkook gets up and fetches something from his draws. “You can wear these.” He hands me a white t-shirt and some pyjama bottoms.

I stand up. “Will you unzip my dress, please?” I ask, slipping out of my heels, turning my back and lifting my hair. He obliges.

“Even drunk, you love to provoke people,” he chuckles.

I smile. “What do you mean, ‘even drunk’?” He doesn’t answer as he lets the dress fall and pool at my feet.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Just, let me turn around before you start getting dressed.”

“Why?” I laugh.

“Because if I remember this, I don’t want to end up kicking myself over what I missed out on.” This makes me laugh even more.

“Alright.” I take the silence as a sign. Putting on the clothes he gave me, I sit back down on the bed. “I’m done.”

He turns around, looking sheepish. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa next door.”

“You could just sleep on the other side the bed.”

He walks over to me and I stand. He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “There is only a certain amount of self-control I have, especially around you.” I bite my lip. “See, don’t do that.” He pulls it out from between my teeth with his thumb. “Goodnight, Miss Hyeji.”

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” I reach up and give him one last peck on the lips. He smiles and leaves the room. I slip under the duvet and rest on the pillows, closing my eyes on probably the best evening of my life.


	8. 8

My head pounds. My arms and legs ache. I’m too hot. 

I open my eyes to find a room that’s unfamiliar too me. Sitting up far too quickly, I throw off the covers to see I’m dressed in clothes that aren’t my own. My dress and heels are on the floor beside the bed, but I’m still wearing the, now uncomfortable, choker and earrings I put on last night.

Slowly, I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and stand up. Picking up my things, I open the door of the bedroom to see a living area, similar to my own but with far more mess. My clutch bag lies on a sideboard next to the door of the suite. I want to know whose room this is, but at the same time, I don’t want to be caught sneaking out. Creeping over to the desks, I peer over the work splayed across it. Something shuffles behind me; I freeze.

“Morning, Sunshine,” a male voice says. Another look at the drawings and I know exactly who it is. “Hyeji-ya, are you okay?”

I turn around and smack him on the head with the skirt of my dress. “You’ll watch how you speak to me, Jeon Jungkook.” He sits up on the sofa, rubbing his head. “Why was I sleeping in your room?” I demand, my voice rising a little in panic. I’m expected to keep my cool, but something terrible could have happened.

“Last night, you were quite drunk and you… you kind of fell asleep at the party. I brought you up here but I didn’t have your key so I put you to sleep in my bed. I brought up your bag afterwards, but didn’t want to go through your stuff. And I sleep out here the whole night, I promise.”

“And the clothes?”

“I put those on before I took off the dress. You looked uncomfortable.”

“And nothing happened?”

“Even as drunk as you were, I don’t think you’d ever do anything with me.”

“Very true. And you remember last night?”

“Most of it.”

“And I didn’t do anything out of character?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. I’m leaving now. And not a word of this to anyone, do you hear?”

“Yes, Miss Song.”

I gather my things and open the door just a crack. The coast is clear. Getting out my key early, I scuttle across the hallway and dive into my suite. I drop the dress in the washing basket, the shoes in the wardrobe, and my accessories in my jewellery draws. Wiping off the makeup that remains on my face and isn’t smeared onto Jungkook’s pillow, I keep on his clothes, take a couple of painkillers and get into my own bed.

I want to think that he would be true to his word, especially when it comes to me. But – and I’ll never admit this to anyone – he has more than one thing over me now; his parents’ jobs and seeing me in a compromised state. If he were like me, he’d know this and would be holding it right in front of my eyes. But he isn’t like me, and that puts my mind to rest, for now at least.

-

It’s late afternoon when I wake up. My head feels clear, and after a shower it feels like everything that could possibly have happened last night had been washed from my skin. Drying my hair and putting on some comfortable clothes, I go down to the cafeteria. Not feeling too fussy, I take what looks most appealing and decide to sit out on one of the large lawns in the gardens.

Ever since I woke up in his bedroom, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Jungkook. I can’t believe I was so careless as to end up drunk and vulnerable. I suppose I should count myself lucky that he didn’t take advantage of me, though the more I think about it, the more grateful I feel towards. I wish the shiver that runs through me at the thought would shake off this strange feeling.

“Hyeji-unnie!” A high-pitch squeal brings me out of my head.

“Lisa,” I nod.

“How are you, after last night?”

“Fine.” I pause, before letting my need for a distraction get the better of me. “How about you?”

“Great actually, though Taehyung wasn’t very well when he woke up around lunchtime. I had to take care of him all afternoon. He’s just getting us food now. Would it be okay if we sat with you?”

“Do what you like.”

“Taehyung!” she calls.

“Hyeji-ya? How are you?” What is it with people addressing me so informally today.

“I heard you got sick.”

“I drank too much.”

For a while, I let them just sit, munching away at their food. I want to do this very carefully, but there isn’t really a subtle way around it. “I can’t remember much from last night. I didn’t miss out on anything, did I?”

“You mean, you, Song Hyeji, chose to drink instead of using everyone else’s vulnerable state to extract their deepest, darkest secrets?” Taehyung laughs.

“You make me sound like some sort of fairy-tale villain, but yes,” I reply, unamused.

Lisa shrugs. “I just remember Taehyung punched someone and apart from that, everyone had a pretty good time.”

I spot a figure lurking behind one the bushed nearby, shifting as I turn my head slightly, but not enough for me to miss their face. “I’ve got some work to do.” Getting up, I dust myself off and pick up my plate.

“See you later,” Taehyung says.

I make straight for the tall bush, expecting the lurker to move, but he doesn’t. Walking a little past him, I stop and say “you know, when someone wants to talk to another person, they usually approach them and use words.”

“Well, we all know that the rules don’t apply to you, don’t we?”

“What do you want Namjoon?”

“I see you’ve accepted the commoner into your little friendship circle.”

“I don’t have friends,” I spit, disgusted.

“What would mother say?”

“What my mother doesn’t know won’t kill her.”

“I’m so glad you said so because,” he pulls out his phone from his pocket, “there are a few things that could kill your beloved mother if she were to find out what happened last night.”

“She’s not going to have a heart attack just because I got drunk.”

“No, but she might if she were to see these.” Namjoon holds his phone in front of my face.

On the screen is a picture of a girl in a red dress, swinging her fist at Min Yoongi. My heart stops when I realize that the girl is me. Desperately trying to keep the reaction from reaching my face, a look at Namjoon to continue. He shows me another picture; I’m laughing with Taehyung. Another; I’m dancing with someone, my head on his shoulder.

“Is that it?” I keep my voice steady.

“Oh no. The best is yet to come.” He opens a folder of audio recordings. I roll my eyes when he taps one named ‘Song Hyeji’s Kryptonite’. “Listen carefully.”

He presses play and a blaring sounds, slowly morphing into a song that I know. I can hear a voice becoming clearer; it’s my voice.

“…bitch ruined my life! Even when I was little, she shoved a pole up my arse and told me to walk straight. She always shuts down me and Dad because we’re not good enough for her. Like, why did I have to inherit the family business? Why did I have to study chemistry, biology and business? I could not give less of a shit about company profits…” There is a chuckle on the recording, sending chills down my spine, right to my toes, making them curl. It continues, “…that doesn’t mean she can control me! That doesn’t mean she can go around making me feel like shit! It isn’t fair. I’d call her a whore if she wasn’t such a robot. God, I hate that woman! I mean, can you believe I’m actually related to her? Can you? Can you?!”

Namjoon turns it off, looking down his nose at me with a self-satisfied smirk. “And there you have it.”

“You can’t prove that it’s me talking, nor can you prove that the woman here was talking about her mother.”

“Don’t give me that. It’s so easy to tell.” 

My mind flies back to what Yoongi said about Namjoon wanting the kind of power I have. Now he has something over me and, unlike Jungkook, he is a lot like me; it would be so easy to bring me down. If my mother heard this, at best, she’d take me out of school and go back to the tutors, maybe even teaching me herself. I don’t want to think about the worst-case scenario.

Realizing that every moment I am silent, Namjoon’s doubt gets smaller and small, I glare up at him. “You wouldn’t send anything to her. If you were going to, you would have already done it.”

“Not necessarily. But you’ll have to be very careful. Because if you do anything that displeases me in the slightest, well, let’s not let that happen.”

Before I can say anything else, he disappears, leaving me visibly shaking in the cool, autumn wind. Bile rises in my throat; I shouldn’t have eaten anything. The fact that at any moment, my mother’s wrath could be unleashed makes my head spin. My breathing elevates, not helping with the dizziness. I try to calm myself down, thinking that I can just sleep this off. I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and it’ll all have been a bad dream.

But I know that my body won’t sleep. It won’t let me rest until I can be assured that my mother will never receive that recording. The punch she’ll forgive me for, and the man I was dancing with I could easily excuse for a very rich heir. But my brain doesn’t offer any solution as to how I can get hold of his phone. It seems like, for now, I’m going to have to behave.


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it has been a while. I have been on holiday. But thankfully, I had already written most of this chapter.
> 
> I won't be posting the offical soundtrack until this fanfiction is finished, but I thought that these songs (listed before text) were particularly fitting for the chapter.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains scenes that some readers may find disturbing, relating to mental health, as well as graphic depiction of gore. Please read with caution. If you find either of these topics particularly triggering, I would advize that you don't read this chapter.

DNA - Lia Marie Johnson

Figure 09 - Linkin Park

~

Knowing I won’t be able to concentrate on any coursework, I returned to Jupiter dorms, taking my time walking across the gravel. Each of the stones spike my feet through the thin soles of my shoes, cursing my every step. A little voice in the back of my mind tells me that I deserve it.

How could I have been so careless? I had everything I could have wanted here; power, control, freedom of choice. Now I don’t even have a friend, or someone to talk to. A little voice in the back of my mind tells me that I don’t deserve one.

I’m up the stair, and onto my corridor without even realizing it. It’s like I can see or hear anything around me. I can’t even find the will to do anything about the recording or the photographs. I’m trapped inside my own head, alone with the horrors of what could happen. And a little voice in the back of my mind tells me that I deserve all of them.

Something vibrate in my pocket. The world blurs back into focus, my ears picking up a familiar sound. My phone. With shaking hands, I slide it out of my back my back pocket.

The screen shows my mother's caller ID. I feel my legs almost give way, terrified at why she might be calling me. Perhaps Namjoon changed his mind. I brace my voice, before pressing the green button and holding the phone a little away from my ear.

“Our top researchers have just quit. And do you know what else I found out?” Relief floods my body from head to toe. If she had heard the recording, researchers quitting would be the last thing in her mind. I contain my relief though, knowing it’s unwise to say a word when she’s in a mood like this. “Their son goes to the same university as you. He even stays in the same halls as you do.”

“I'm sorry, Mother, I wasn't aware of that. If I had known, I would have spoken to him about it.”

“That isn't good enough, Hyeji,” and all good feeling leaves me. “Don't you remember anything your father, that useless man, taught you about business? You must know everything about your employees and your clients.”

“I know. I'm very sorry to have disappointed you, Mother.”

“You should be. I expected so much more of you, Hyeji. This is disgraceful behaviour.” My heart sinks, a thick lump rises in my throat, and tears threaten to leak from my eyes. 

“I'm sorry, Mother. It won't happen again.”

“It had better not.” She hangs up before I can apologise again.

The thought of disappointing my mother is enough to make my feel physically sick. I rest a palm against the wall opposite, doubling over slightly. It's painful to swallow, my insides dry and rough like sandpaper. I fiercely force down the tears that are beginning to show, clinging to any moisture that I have left. And the worst part is that she keeps saying the same things, over and over; This isn’t good enough, I’m very disappointed in you, this had better not happen again. Sometimes I think she’d prefer it if I could permanently pretend to be someone else’s daughter. I'd call my father if I wanted sympathy, but this is my own doing. There is no need to worry him. 

“Are you alright?” His voice makes my insides jump. I look up to where Jeon Jungkook stands, a few metres away, staring right back at me. 

“Fine,” I say, straightening up and opening my door.

“You're a good liar, and you might be able to deceive your mother. But why didn't you tell her that you did speak to me.”

“You shouldn't listen into other people's private matters.” I push into my suite but suddenly he is beside me and has hold of my wrist. 

“You said it before, you hate your mother, you don't want anything to do with your family's company.”

“The bastard!” Namjoon must have told him. Who else knew? Did anyone else have a copy of the recording.

“I was there, I heard you say it to Jimin.”

“You lied to me!” I swing around so that we stand face to face, though he still had hold of me. “You told me nothing happened last night.” 

Jungkook’s face falls, his eyes widen. “You didn’t remember this morning, so I thought it would be best if you didn’t know. You might be embarrassed, and that’s why I stopped you.”

“You stopped me? Then how come I ended up with Taehyung, punching Yoongi and dancing with some random guy. I don’t see how you stopped any of that happened.” He suddenly looks hurt, but I’m too angry to properly acknowledge it.

“You should be grateful nothing worse happened!” he tries to yell but his voice cracks.

“You're being too bold.” I glare straight into his eyes and he shrinks back a little, letting go of my wrist. “This hasn't got anything to do with you.”

I'm about to close the door behind me, but something blocks it. I look down to see Jungkook’s shoe stuck between the door and the door frame. “I’ve met your mother; did you know that?” he almost barks. Why is that that he can only speak to me like this when I’m not looking at him? Still, I can’t bring myself to open the door. The destructive part of me wants to know what else he has to say. “It was a few years ago. And do you know what? You’re exactly like her.” I open my mouth to reply, but he seems to be able to see through the door. “Don’t thank me. It’s not a compliment. She has a terrible superiority complex. She wouldn’t even look at my parents – I don’t care that she didn’t acknowledge me – but she was looking to hire them and didn’t give them a second glance. She is dismissive and rude, not caring about the hours she demanded them to work and how is affected their health. She has no respect for anyone other than herself and nothing is ever good enough for her.”

“If you’re done telling me everything I already know-”

“And do you know what the worst part is? She has made herself into this idol for you, Hyeji-ya. And you believe everything she tells you. You let her get into your head. You let yourself become her.” I let go of the door handle and start to back away from the door, regretting my decision not to send him away. “I thought you might be different. I thought you’d be the better person.” My hands begin to shake violently; I try to preoccupy them with pulling at my hair. “You make out like you’re this strong, independent young woman, but you’re really just a grovelling submissive of your mother’s will. You’ve internalized everything that she is; you let her dress you in her skin…”

He might have said something else but I can’t hear him anymore. I’d expect my mother to be screaming, but her voice that resides inside of my head speaks softly; it’s almost comforting.

This isn’t good enough. She carries me into my bedroom. I expected more from you. She stands me in front of the floor length mirror, correcting my posture before backing way. This had better not happen again.

There is silence as I stare at my reflection. If there is any noise, I wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway. My vision blurs and clears in infrequent intervals, until all I can see is her. She wears her usually disapproving expression. Her neck is tense, as are her shoulders, right the way down to her feet. She is still beautiful, but it is a cold beauty. It’s like thick ice, holding up her insides, which have turned to stone. I only ever wanted to be like her, to be good enough for her.

That’s when I realize that I was never looking at her. I’m looking my own reflection, but I know that my ice is thin, fragile. I wonder just how fragile I am...

My bony fist jumps at the opportunity, leaving a couple of cracks across my face. But now, I just look more like her. Jungkook was right, I don’t just act like her, I am her. She has control over everything that I do.

Drunk on this realization, I let the hatred from the bottom of my heart pump its hellish way around my body. I look at my fist, scratched and bruising, and throw it back at the mirror. The pain sends a yelp from my lips, blood now dribbling down my fingertips and tainting the surface of the mirror. But it’s not enough.

I grab a lamp from my bedside table, ripping out the cable and slam it into the cracked surface. Cries of anger and agony escape me. Tears begin to fall. I attack her refection – my reflection – until it shatters completely and pieces of us land on the carpet. I clutch them in my claws, the sharp edges cutting into my palms as I look at two distorted eyes. Blood begins to run down my forearms, dripping from my elbows and decorating the floor. This is her blood, it has been inside of me for too long. It needs to come out.

Somebody is shouting, grabbing at my shoulders, shaking me. I wonder if it’s her; has she come to tell me that everything is going to be okay, to say she is sorry? I pause, pondering thoughts of my mother on her knees, her head level with mine, tears in her eyes, apologizing.

But I know her, all too well. She would never do that.

Dropping one of the shards, I move to bring the remaining shard to my neck, to empty myself of her. 

But something is stopping me; it isn’t hope, it’s isn’t fear of death, it’s a hand. A hand wrapped around my wrist, another prying my fingers open until I drop the glass. I try to push it away with my free hand, forgetting about the gashes. Screaming in pain, flailing for freedom, red stains white, energy is lost. The heaviness of the sobs shakes my entire fragile form, now a ball surrounded by scattered pieces of myself.

The mystery hands find my neck and legs, lifting me from the floor. As much as it hurts, I find myself grabbing at arms and soft fabric, anything to steady myself. Strong arms wrap themselves around me, a hand strokes my head.

I use the little energy I have left to left my chin, to press my cheeks and lips against what I imagine is a neck, my nose against the underside of a jaw, drinking in the heat of someone else’s skin.


	10. 10

When I open my eyes, there is only white. I can’t see anything other than a bright sheen of light for a while. I can hear someone calling me, feel someone clutching my arm, but I can’t see them.

“Hyeji? Hyeji-unnie, you’re finally awake!”

“I don’t think she can hear you.”

I open my mouth to say something, but my throat is so dry that all that comes out is a painful cough.

“She can. She can hear me.” The light fades a little. “Don’t worry, you’re just in the infirmary.”

Infirmary? My body gives an involuntary jolt, and I’m soon sitting up, my hands pulled to my eyes. But my fingers are stiff; I can’t move them at all.

“Your hands are bandaged, Hyeji. Don’t try and move them. Lisa has gone to get the nurse. Everything going to be okay.”

“Water,” I manage to get out in a raspy breath.

“Of course.” Something in placed at my lips. I drink through the straw so fast that I start coughing again. “Easy, easy.” A hand rubs my back.

“Oh good, she’s drinking. We’ll have to get you something to eat as well.” My vision begins to clear as a man in a white coat approach my bed. “Can you speak?”

I nod, wanting to save my voice for his questions. Lisa stands a little behind the nurse, wringing out her hands, looking nervous. Taehyung, with his hand still on my back, gives me an encouraging smile.

“Do you remember what happened? Do you remember how you cut your hands?”

“No, I…” Looking down at the bandaged mitten-like hands, tears begin dripping from my tears. “No, I don’t remember anything.”

But I do remember. I remember every second of it. It makes me want to fall back on the bed, back into that dreamless sleep, and to never wake up.

“The young man who brought you here, he requested that we didn’t call your parents until you were awake. Would you like to speak to them now?”

“No,” I don’t remember having the urge to say. “I’ll speak to them later, once I feel better.” No, I won’t. “The boy who brought me here, who was he?”

“He also requested that he remain anonymous.”

“That’s ridiculous. Just tell me.”

“I’m afraid I have to respect his wishes.”

“And what about what I want?” I forgot that I was crying. “Why doesn’t anyone ever care about what I want?”

“Hyeji-”

“And what are you two doing here?” I yell, embarrassed that they’re seeing me like this. “What do you care about me?”

“We were-”

“I want you to leave,” I mumble, my throat becoming sore again. Lisa and Taehyung don’t say anything else, just give small smiles and disappear around the corner. I turn back to the nurse. “How long will it take for them to heal?”

“The dressings can come off in about two to three weeks, and you’ll have to get them redressed every day. I’ll give you some medicine to put on the wounds.”

“Will I be able to move my fingers?”

“Yes, but it’ll be painful to start off with. You might not be able to comfortably hold anything for a couple of weeks as well.”

“But I’m on a graphic design course; I have to be able to draw.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. And your health must be your top priority.”

I would have shouted at him to do something about it, but it just seems a little pointless when there really isn’t anything he can do. Instead, I nod, complying and listening as he tells me how to apply the medicine and redress the wound. He lets me leave after giving me some soup to drink through a straw. I make him go, not wanting to embarrass myself further.

Usually I’d have strut through the halls of the main admin building, down the garden paths and across the lawns, hoping people would notice me and the power I hold over them. But today is different. I cross my arms, hiding my bandaged palms in the coat that was left for me. With every turn that I take, I check that the coast is clear before I move. The cafeteria will have just opened for lunch period, so hopefully those who don’t have lessons will be there, or at least out of my way.

I meet one person on the way back to the dorms. Straightening up, I shrug the coat further over my shoulders, pretending I’m cold. Sticking my chin out as I feel his eyes on me, I wonder if he knows what he did to me, what I did afterwards. I don’t make the effort to meet his eye. I want him to say something, to yell at me again, or to apologize. I don’t care. I just want him to say something.

But he doesn’t.

When I get back to my bedroom, I look at my washing basket, his clothes still slung on top of the pile. I take off my clothes and put his on. They feel heavier, warmer, than they did before and, although I just woke up, all I want to do is sleep.

Every tug at the covers make my hands throb, the pain travelling down to my wrists. But it doesn’t matter to me, because it doesn’t feel like anything can hurt me anymore.


	11. 11

The next couple of weeks are the loneliest I’ve ever known. I try to keep up in class, and opt to do a lot of my work on the computers. I try to keep my image in tact; as the bandages only cover my palms I wear gloves, complaining of the cold winds.

Neither Lisa, nor Taehyung try to talk to me now, and I avoid the shared kitchen at all costs. I never eat where anyone can see me. I have been alone whenever I eat ever since I started here, but I’ve never been lonely.

November arrives, as do colds, coughs, and the occasional flu, just more excuses for me to stay away from everyone.

I feel like this is the way it should have been, the way my mother wanted it to be when I came to university; no one to bother me and not having to force a conversation with anyone. But, somehow, I don’t feel concerned with my mother. It’s like her spirit left me that day. I haven’t received any calls for her, nor had any contact with Namjoon; he must be happy with my withdrawn state.

In fact, the only person my mind can really focus on is Jeon Jungkook. I’ve learnt to deal with everyone else, but whenever he comes into view I don’t know whether I want him to talk to me, or whether I want to hide from him. And each time this happens, I hate him even more; he made me doubt myself, pushed me over the edge, to the point where I wouldn’t care if my mother got those recording and pulls me out of school. I was brought up to prepare for every scenario, but when he could be in any room, down any corridor, I’m uncertain with every step I take.

It's late one evening before I manage to pull together something to eat. Holding cutlery still hurts my hands, though the bandages are due to come off entirely in a couple of days. I stand over the kitchen counter, eating slowly, when Kim Taehyung appears. 

“Song Hyeji, you have to come with me,” he says frantically. 

“Why?”

“It's Jimin.”

“What about him?”

“I don't really know what's wrong with him. I didn't want to go near him. He just seemed a bit... I can't really explain it.” Come to think of it, I haven't seen him at all today.

“Okay.” I put down my fork, leaving my dinner barely touched.

“You're not angry with me?”

I shake my head. “Take me to Jimin.”

Taehyung takes me from the dorm back to campus. We walk in silence; I don't know what to say to him. Do I apologise, for everything I have done to him and everything I have let happen to him? Do I press him for information on Jimin’s condition? I don't see a good outcome from either option, so I say nothing. 

He leads me through the gardens, towards the Arts Building. I finally break the silence once we reach one of the fashion studios on the top floor. 

“What do you think I should do?”

Taehyung looks at me, confused. I guess I always seemed sure of myself. “Talk to him. You're probably his best friend.”

“I didn't think I was anyone's friend,” I mumble.

“You can be a friend to him now. Please try. I didn't know what else to do; I thought you might.”

I push open the door and immediately spot a small shivering ball in the corner of the room, under the window. I step carefully around the manikins until I can slide down the wall to sit on the floor beside him.

“Jimin-ah?” I say softly, with all the affection that I can muster. “It's only me.” He doesn't look up. “Why are you crying?” I ask, unable to avoid being direct. He still doesn't say anything, but I can tell he is trying hard to stop shaking. Raising his head slightly, he runs the cuff of his sleeve over his eyes. “If you don't tell me, I can't help you.”

A mumbling pushes through the cloth. There aren't many words I can catch; “I...I...cut...parents...can't...”

I push my arm over his shoulder, stroking his hair with the tips of my fingers. I never found out who that person was, who came to me when I had my episode, but I'm almost certain it was Jimin. He’s the only person who would help me. It's only fair for me to at least try and return the favour.

“Whatever it is, I'm sure we can figure something out.”

He lifts his head and finally looks at me. His eyes are puffy and red, his sleeves wet with tears. He sniffs, clearing his throat and croaks, “My parents cut me off.”

“Why?”

“They wanted me to model for this new underwear line that my mum is bringing out. But I didn't want to. I just don't like the idea of everyone seeing me with my clothes off; it makes me feel really uncomfortable.”

“And they cut you off just for that?” I continue to stroke the back of his head. 

“I’ve been pushing it for years. I figure they’ve just had enough. I’m pretty sure they won't let me come home for Christmas. And I’ve been too careless to save any money, so I can't pay for university fees.”

“Don't worry about it,” I say. “There will be a way around this. There is always way around things.”

“I don't get it. How can you go from stiff-necked bitch to this comforting squishy… thing?” Jimin chuckles a little, poking my cheek. 

I can't help but smile. “My dad used to stroke my hair when I was very young. I’d get upset because I kept disappointing my mother, I wasn't learning fast enough for her. But that was over ten years ago. I don't really see my dad anymore, and I don't know how I remember, but this is the only way I know how to comfort people.” An air of gloom settles down on us again. 

“Maybe I should just do the modelling.”

“No,” I snap, pulling my arm back. His eyes are filled with despair. “You should never sacrifice your dignity for the satisfaction of others. You’re friends with the Queen, for God's sake; you can't be seen giving in so easily.” I get up, offering my hand to him. He hesitates to take it, gripping my wrist instead.

“How are they, your hands?”

“I’ll live.” I wipe the remaining tears from under his eyes and smile. “This is a good thing, I think. You might be able to switch to the course you actually want to do.”

“I don't know. What will my parents think when they find out?”

“They've cut you off. Their involvement in your life is no longer existent.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Compared to what they’ve done to you, it’s nothing. You should be able to do what you want now.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Well, first, I think you need a hug.” I close my arms around him, holding him close to me. He hesitates again, before reciprocating. The comfort of being here with him makes me wonder whether it was really me who needed the hug. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

I pull away but still hold into his shoulders. “Taehyung should be outside. You can trust him. Go get something to eat and I’ll join you in a second.”

Jimin smiles at me, the playful glint that was gone seems to have returned somewhat. He walks over to the door and leaves. I hear Taehyung’s voice fading as they go down the corridor.

Getting out my phone, I call Mr Lee. I’m going to sort things out for Jimin. I hope that it’ll lead to better things for everyone, but I have to start somewhere. “Hello?”

“What can I do for you, my lady?”

“I still have that savings account that my father made for me, don't I?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Just Hyeji, please. Am I able to access that?”

“I believe so.”

“Good. I’ll be needing to transfer some money out of that soon.”

“I’ll get you all of the details.”

“Thank you, Mr Lee. And one more thing; are Mother and Father still going away over Christmas?”

“Yes.”

“Please can you inform them that I will be staying at home to work on a school assignment?”

“Of course… Hyeji.”

“Thank you very much. I think that's everything for now.”

“Erm...you’re welcome. But I must ask; are you feeling alright, my lady?”

“Hyeji,” I correct him. “And yes, I am feeling quite well, thank you.”

“Okay, well, you just seem a little different. But not in a bad way,” he adds quickly.

I laugh lightly. “I’m feeling better than I have done in years, Mr Lee. Thank you for your concern. I must go now. I’ll speak to you soon.”

I make my way back across campus, to the dining hall and call out to Jimin.

“We're over here,” I hear Taehyung say from around a corner. Five young men sit at the only occupied table in the dining hall. “Jimin, can I talk to you for a second?”

“It's okay. I’ve told them what happened.”

I narrow my eyes. “You trust them?” Sweeping my eyes over the group, they're all looking up at me innocently. All except one. I shallow hard, keeping my eyes away from him. He does the same. “Move up,” I say to Yugyeom. He moves over so I can sit opposite Jimin. “I have a proposal for you.”

“You want to get married? Well, that would certainly solve the money issues.”

I reach over the table and flick his forehead. “You’ve cheered up, puffy eyes.” He scowls and rubs his head, a little red mark appearing where I flicked him. “I'm serious. I’ve decided not to go on holiday this Christmas, so you'll come and stay with me until school starts again.” The other boys immediately lean in. All except one. “As for any money issues, I'll cover those and, if you really want to, you can pay me back whenever you can.”

Jimin looks at me, wide-eyed. “You don't have to do all of that.”

“I want to. And I owe you.”

“Why do you owe me?”

“Because I’ve been a bitch.”

“Does that mean you owe me too?” Yugyeom grins up at me as I stand to leave. I grace him with an unimpressed grimace, and begin to walk away.

“Aren't you going to eat something?” Taehyung calls after me.

“Maybe later. I have a few things to sort out first.”


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, after ripping out the hearts of my 'Atelophobia' audience yesterday, I decided to do it here as well. Have fun! ~ Slighty X

“Are you ready yet? My chauffeur is here!” I knock repeatedly on Jimin’s door.

“Coming! Coming!” I hear him yell from inside. I’ve already taken my bags down to the car and come back up, and he still isn’t ready to leave.

“What’s going on here, sweet cheeks?” An arm flings itself over my shoulder. “Going on our little Christmas break with Jimin, are we?”

I throw Yugyeom a sarcastic smile. “If he ever comes out!” I bang on the door a couple more times.

“Alright, alright.” Jimin finally opens the door, dragging two large suitcases behind him.

“I said you could stay for Christmas. I didn’t say anything about moving in.”

“I only packed the things that I need,” he grumbles, though mildly amused.

“Now, you two,” Yugyeom places his other arm over Jimin’s shoulders. “Don’t do anything crazy, okay? At least not without me.”

I shove him away, rolling my eyes. “Let’s go.” But when we reach the top of the stairs, I stop.

“What’s wrong, Hyeji-ah? Oh, Jungkook, hello.”

“Here, let me help you with that.”

Of course, he had to volunteer to carry one of the suitcases. I step aside, eyes on the ground, so that he can take a case from Jimin.

“Thanks.”

I follow the two of them down the stairs without a word. Swallowing hard, I try not to think of Jungkook’s words the last time we spoke, but I can’t stop the shiver running down my spine. I pull myself back to the present, finding my eyes trailing over his shoulders and arm muscles flexing under his white t-shirt. It’s surprisingly difficult to look away.

“Thank you, sir,” my chauffeur smiles at Jungkook when we step outside.

I incline my head ever so slightly, making no attempt at eye contact. “Thank you,” I mumble, getting into the back of my car. Jimin doesn’t get in straight away, exchanging a few words with his friend, before getting in the other side. He shakes his head, a confused smile on his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” he exhales deeply. “Just something Jungkook said to me just now.” I look out of the window as we drive away, pretending not to be interested in what was said. Jimin however, being Jimin, tells me anyway. “He told me to make sure I took care of you. I guess he thinks you’re liable to drop more glasses and cut yourself again. I’m pretty sure I deal with blood worse than you do!”

I wince a little at the cover story I made up. Making the excuse of passing out at the sight of blood wouldn’t have been my first choice, but anything seems to put me in a better light than the truth. And I appreciate Jimin not talking to me about what really happened, even though he knows. It makes me feel a little less pathetic.

“Sorry, was that too insensitive?”

“No! No.” I turn and smile at him. “It’s okay. I suppose I am a bit of a liability. But thank you, for everything you’ve done for me over these past few weeks.”

“There you go again, being an absolute squish,” he pokes my cheek, his eye-smile brighter than ever. “It’s no wonder everyone fancies you.”

“That’s not true,” I protest. “I’m still a bitch, I just hang out with people now.”

“But didn’t you see Yugyeom before we left? It was like he was marking his territory.”

I laugh loudly at how ridiculous he sounds. “It sounded more like he wanted to have a threesome!”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

I’ve been hanging around with Jimin and his friends since I made the offer for him to stay. Surprisingly, they were all very welcoming, which was a little unnerving at first because I thought they were just doing it so that I wouldn’t unleash my wrath upon them. But as the days passed, they would meet me separately and we’d walk to the Arts Building and eat together. It’s still strange having people actually wanting to be around me, and I don’t trust them completely. But right now, I’m taking what I can get.

And, of course, it’s difficult seeing Jungkook every day, sitting with him at dinner, and trying not to acknowledge his presence. What’s worse is that he doesn’t seem to have a clue about what happened that day. He likely thinks I took it the same way I take everything else; completely dismissing it as bullshit. It’s probably better that way. There’s no risk that he’d feel guilty.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Sorry.”

-

Living with Jimin is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Though the grounds are empty of servants, most of them on holiday with my parents and the rest on their own break, it doesn’t feel lonely. Being a good host, I never leave Jimin alone for too long. We sit in the drawing room most days, sketching out designs and catching up on the work we’ve missed. He managed to transfer to the photography course without any issues, but now he has to cover two months’ worth of work over Christmas.

We attempt to cook in the evenings, but often end up snacking like we do during the day. The kitchens are well stocked, so we set up a little picnic on the floor, pulling things down from the cupboards. It’s like back when we were kids, when it seemed like we didn’t have to worry about anything. And maybe we can be like that again, even if it’s just for a little while.

“Where do you think we’ll be in ten years’ time?” he says softly, on the night of Christmas Eve, after we’ve both been silent for a while.

I look over to him and frown. “I suppose I’ll be doing what I’ve always been doing; waiting to take over the company. But by then I’ll have a degree or two. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t know how my life is going to go anymore.”

“You’re smart, and very talented. I don’t think it’s going to be all that difficult for you to go up in the world.”

“But my parents practically disowned me. If they wanted to, they could completely sabotage my career prospects.”

“Would they really do that?” He doesn’t reply. Sighing deeply, I put my arm around his shoulder and begin to stroke his hair. “I wouldn’t worry about them now. They’re not here. They can’t get to you anymore.”

“You’re right.” He leans over and presses his soft lips against my neck.

“Jimin,” I sigh, not sure where he wants to go with this, but accept as he kisses my lips. He reaches across me, and I expect him to run his hand over my thigh, but instead he takes my hand and holds it in my lap. I begin running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Hyeji-ah, are you sure you’re okay with this?” I hum against his lips in approval. “Good.” He begins moving back down across my jaw and down my neck. “Stand.” I obey, without an ounce of shame. He puts his hand on my waist and lifts me onto the countertop behind us. Stepping between my leg he continues his assault on my skin.

Suddenly my mind flashes to Jungkook. I’m surprised it’s not my mother. I frown, trying to push the image from my head. But as I try and focus on this moment, I can’t think of Jimin alone. So, I keep my mouth shut and hope I don’t say anything to ruin whatever of this is.

-

I wake to a low grumble and light breath on the back of my neck. Shuffling under the thick duvet, I feel constrictions around my waist.

“Oh good, you’re awake. My arm’s dead and your hair’s all in my mouth.”

“Then move.” I flip myself over to face Jimin.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” Jimin unhooks his arms from around me, leaving one lying just under my neck, resting the other on his stomach as he turns to face the ceiling. “Is that my shirt?”

I pull at the white t-shirt that serves as my only coverage under the duvet. “It’s Jungkook’s,” I say casually, before my brain can stop me.

“How did you get his shirt?” Jimin smirks down at me. When I don’t answer, he laughs maniacally. “Oh, you little minx!”

“What?” I look up, alarmed.

“When you ran off with Jungkook at that party, you slept with him, didn’t you?”

“I did not run off with Jungkook! Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I saw you.”

“And you didn’t stop me? You didn’t think you say anything to about it afterwards?”

“Okay, you’re getting anal again. Just calm down.”

“No!” I try and sit up. “I can’t have done that. He said nothing happened. He was asleep on the sofa. And I still had my makeup and jewellery on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Okay, so I might have woken up in Jungkook’s bed the morning after the party, wearing his pyjamas. But he said nothing happened…Shit, was he guy Namjoon got a picture of me dancing with?” I gasp.

“Namjoon has blackmail pictures of you?”

“Well, yes. But he can’t really use them because I can easily talk my way around it. It’s the recording that we need to be more worried about.”

“There’s a recording? Exactly how deep in shit are you, Hyeji?” Jimin looks genuinely concerned.

“As long as my mother doesn’t find out, it’s fine.”

“I thought you weren’t worried about your mother anymore.”

“Yeah, well as much as I don’t care what she thinks of me, she is paying my university fees and has control of the family money.”

“You could end up like me. But Jungkook could take you in; you could stay in his room again.”

“That isn’t funny, Jimin.”

“Oh my God! That’s why he acts like he hates you, because you don’t remember sleeping with him.”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” I yell.

“Okay, sure.” Jimin leans back. “Whatever you say.”

“I did not!” I smack his chest. “As if I would ever stoop so low. Oh God! That’s probably why he said all those things to me! He wanted to get back at me!”

“What things? When did he talk to you?”

“You know the day you found me in my room, all bleeding and that? He’d just been yelling at me, telling me that I was just like my mother.”

“I never went into your room, Hyeji-ah. You’d kill me if I did. And you know I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

A fear rises from the hollow pit of my stomach. Jimin wasn’t the one who saved me. But then, who was? Faces flash through my head but I can’t remember seeing one that day. That means there is someone at the university who has seen me in a vulnerable position, someone who has something over me. They wanted to remain anonymous, and now I know why; so that, when it suits them, they can tell everyone that I’m human and that someone finally broke me.

“I can’t believe he would yell at you. That just doesn’t seem like him at all,” Jimin muses as I sit up properly and attempt to get out of my bed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just need a shower, or something. I don’t really know.”

“I can speak to Jungkook if you like, and we can work things out.”

“Enough about Jungkook,” I snap. “I don’t want to hear his name again.” I head straight for my en suite bathroom, trying furiously to remember the night of the party. But all I can grasp is the faint smell of cologne, the lights in the garden, and my favourite song playing until the picture fades to black.


	13. 13

“Oh, come on, stop being such a baby. I’ve seen you naked before.”

“But this is different.”

“It’s just me seeing it. The pictures won’t reveal anything.”

I run my tongue across my top teeth and pout. “Where’s the damn dress?” Jimin flings a bundle of chiffon at me and ducks back behind his camera tripod. I step into the dress, holding the front up over my chest.

“Are you coming out?”

“Says the guy who takes two hours to pack his bags.”

“Just come out!”

I shuffle onto the staging area we set up in my art studio, head down, letting my hair fall in my face. “So, what is this particular shoot supposed to represent?”

“Well, the overall story is of girl who breaks free from the restraints of her soul.” Jimin walks onto the set and begins fiddling with my hair. “Now, I don’t want you to look at the camera at all yet; this particular section of the shoot is about being trapped inside yourself.”

“That’s sounds original.” He gives me a look. “Any tips on how to do this modelling thing?”

“Right now, I want you to look mostly blank, like you’re feeling so sad inside but you’re repressing it. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yeah, I think I can imagine what that feels like.”

“Great.” He turns me around, adjusting the dress under my arms. I flinch and his flicks the back of my head. “You’re being a baby again.” Draping something over my head, he pulls the material across my chest and shoulders. “Okay, when I say go, I want you to look up at the windows, and pretend they’re your only way out of this hell hole.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, go.” Breathing out, I stare up into the sunlight. I honestly don’t want to think of my mother, but she finds her way into my mind. “That’s brilliant! Now, I want you to slowly bring your face down towards me, but not too close to the camera. That’s good. Can you stop when your eyes reach the floor about a metre to the left of the camera. Even slower, that’s good.”

The shoot lasts for another four hours, and by the end of it, my legs hurt from standing for so long. I attempt to make an edible chicken ramen whilst Jimin sifts through the photos, occasionally showing me one that he’s particularly proud of.

“You’re a natural. How come you’ve never tried this before?”

“I’ll give you one guess. But to be fair, I was never really bothered about being famous like that. Besides, the media is just bullshit anyway.” Jimin gives me the look again. “Except you!” I run across the kitchen, flinging my arms around him. “We like you.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should like your cooking as much as you like me because it’s boiling over.”

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Rushing back over, twist knobs and push buttons until the spilling stops. “Shut up, Jimin,” I snap as he sits laughing in the corner. Shaking my head, I turn back to what could have been a disaster, and find myself laughing along with him. And then I have to stop myself. It feels wrong, and not because of my mother. It’s because of something else, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

-

“Did you have a nice time with Jimin over Christmas?” Lisa sits down at my table in the cafeteria.

“How could you possibly know that I spent Christmas with him? Did Taehyung tell you? That boy just can’t keep a secret.” I’ll admit, I’ve been a little on edge since yesterday when we returned to university to start the new semester. That strange feeling is haunting me, taunting me with my ignorance as to what it could be.

“No. It’s in the newspaper.”

“People still read newspapers?”

“Well, the online newspapers. Here, look.” She holds her phone in front of my face. “Are you two like a thing now.”

The headline on the screen reads ‘Song/Park-itus; an Inherited Virus?’ “That’s not even funny. Oh my God, it’s written by the same bitch as last time.”

“So this woman likes to gossip. I think it’s sort of funny.”

“No fat, low sugar, gluten free bullshit is what it is.”

“What does that even mean?” Lisa leans over the table on her elbows.

“You’re made to think that it’s good for you, but’s all in bad taste.” Lisa laughs. It wasn’t meant to be funny.

“What did you mean when you said, ‘last time’?” She looks intrigued.

“Yeah, Hyeji-ah, tell her about last time.”

I groan as Yugyeom and Bam Bam sit down with us. “Why do you have to be here?”

“Hey, if you want to be a loner again, we can go.”

“No, stay,” Lisa protests. “I want to hear about last time.”

I give into her puppy eyes all too quickly. “Well, technically there isn’t a ‘last time’ because there was never a second time.”

“But with you and Jimin getting cosy, it looks like there’s going to be.”

“Yugyeom, do you want to tell the story?” He sits back in his chair, hands up in surrender. “Basically…what it is…my father, he kind of had an affair with Jimin’s mother.”

“That’s it?” Lisa looks thoroughly disappointed.

“What did you expect? Did you want me to tell you that when Jimin and I were children, we took down a drug lord and got enough money to take over the world?”

“Ooh, that sounds much better.”

“Anyway…the media kicked up a huge fuss about it, trying to make it a big deal. But my mother, being to emotionless woman that she is, couldn’t care less. Jimin’s father was less than impressed, and because no one in the family would speak to the press about it, they turned it into this scandal. I mean, of course, it happened. No one is denying that. But just the fact that they are doing it all over again, it’s unnecessary stress on my family.”

“What’s your mother done now?” Taehyung laughs, wondering up to the table with Jungkook.

“There’s been another Song/Park scandal.”

“Yugyeom, if you don’t shut up, I’ll make sure you never know the relief of painkillers ever again.”

“Not this!” Jimin appears.

“I think we need a bigger table. God, I just have too many friends!”

“Why don’t we all just go back to the halls and sit in the kitchen?” Jimin suggests.

“You actually want to talk about this?” I stare at Jimin in alarms as everyone stands him.

“No.” He takes my arm and pulls me a little away from the group. “I’m just think, if we can get them to forget about it on the way there and then distract them with alcohol.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

As we walk across the grounds, I stay as far away from Jimin as possible, to avoid causing anymore ‘confirmation’ of the media’s suspicions. I stroll alone at the back of the pack, swinging my arms, not worried if someone sees me. It’s dark, and most students are probably out at some party to celebrate another semester of slacking off and completely wasting their parents’ savings.

“You alright?”

I stop, turn my head slowly to the young man standing next to me. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Listen, Jungkook. I know you don’t like me, so you really don’t have to make an effort to be nice if it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“I don’t not like you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“So,” he starts walking again, very slowly, looking at the floor, hands in his pockets. “You spent Christmas with Jimin?”

“I did.”

“Did you have a…a good time?”

“Yeah, it was pretty good. We got lots of work done, I helped him catch up with his photography course. The pictures are brilliant, if I do say so myself. And we tried to cook but- hey, you don’t want to hear any of this.”

“Yeah.” I can’t help but laugh loudly at his honestly. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You seem better.”

“Better than I was after you yelled at me? Yeah, not exactly difficult,” I smile bitterly, before I realize, he doesn’t even know what happened afterwards.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re what? You’re sorry?” I stop walking again, suddenly irritated. “For what? For interfering in my relationship with my mother? For yelling at me? For lying to me about the fact that I apparently ran off with you at that party, and that’s how I ended up in your room, in your clothes?” As my voice begins to rise, I gasp, remembering Jimin’s accusation.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I had no idea how that would make you feel. And I’m sorry I lied to you about the party. I just figured you’d be embarrassed about being seen with me.”

“So you lied to my face? Why are you so worried about my feelings? I mean, as far as you’re concerned, I don’t have any. I am my mother, that’s what you said.”

“Hyeji, would you just shut up for a second, please?”

“Why? So you can yell at me again?”

“I said I was sorry.” 

“And suddenly, I feel all better.” He looks hurt, but I’m hurt too. I’ve been hurting since he stuck his foot in the door. I can’t back down from this.

“I don’t know what else to say.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t say anything at all.” Hugging my coat around me and bracing against the winter night air, I hurry to catch up with the others, past them and into Jupiter Halls.

“Hyeji-unnie, where are you going?” Lisa calls.

“Bed. I’m not feeling so good.”

“Oh, well, I hope you feel better soon,” she says as I take the stair two at a time.

“Me too, Lisa,” I mumble. “Me too.”


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I've been super busy with uni work, and it's taken me ages to finish this chapter. But it's a nice long one, so I hope you enjoy it. Love always ~ Slightly X

“Hyeji!” Taehyung jogs to catch up with me as I leave my classroom.

“What up?” I don’t slow down for him.

“I was just wondering how you were, you know, with everything that’s going on?”

“I’m fine. I’m just trying to ignore the press and that.”

“Are you coming to the exhibition tonight?”

“Like I would miss it! I can’t wait to see how the photos turned out.”

“Jimin’s been very private with them. He won’t even show them to me or Jungkook.”

I drop my head a little. I didn’t know he was keeping them so close to his chest. What are the press going to say when they get to the exhibition? What are all our friends going to think? “Hasn’t Jungkook got some pieces up as well?”

“He has. And what’s up with you and him? I know you had that spat the other night, but I didn’t think it was serious.”

“We’ve never gotten along.” I sigh deeply. “But after his parents quit, there hasn’t been a reason for me to make amends.”

“Maybe you could just make amends for your own sake.”

A laugh escapes me. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I feel no need to.” In truth, I really want to hit him, because the issues he seems to have with me are becoming bothersome. My freedom from worrying about my mother has come at the price of me caring far too much about what everyone else thinks of me.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“Sure, yeah.” He graces me with the widest of grins and I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. He never expected someone like me to accept such an offer, and that makes me sad.

I’ve spent my entire life thinking of my own pain and suffering, that I didn’t care what I did to hurt others. But as soon as someone got to me, feelings became a huge deal. Though it doesn’t seem fair, that’s the way it has always been in my world. And I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to change that.

-

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Actually, I’m quite nervous.”

“Good God, what is this? The great Song Hyeji shaking in her stilettos?”

“I’m sure the photos are great, but with everything that’s going on…”

“I know it’s risky, but if we both know nothing is actually going on, then it shouldn’t matter.”

I stand with Jimin just outside the Arts Building, the exhibition about to open in the Hall on the other side of the foyer. Our friends said they wouldn’t be arriving until later, but I agreed to be with Jimin for the opening.

“Do you want to go in?”

“Yeah, I’ll get some alcohol in my system and it’s all be okay.”

“Oh sure, because we know how well things go when you drink!” I give him a playful shove as we walk inside. “Great,” he grumbles.

“What’s wrong?” He nods, and I follow his gaze to a group of cameras and news reporters wait outside the doors to the Hall. “Do you want to walk in separately?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. But if you want to go ahead before they spot us, then that’s alright with me.”

I give him a grateful smile and stride out in front of him, nose in the air, pretending I don’t even know he exists. It’s horribly easy to slip back into the way I used to be only a few months ago.

“Song Hyeji, will you be purchasing any of the items on display today?” Pushing past them, I don’t feel in slightest bit guilty for ignoring the cameras. You give them the smallest drop of attention and you’ve got yourself into a spiral of darkness and lies.

A couple of event attendants open the doors and fight off the press to close them behind me. “Thank you,” I smile, and stroll around the concealed display boards and walls draped in clothes, waiting to be unveiled in a few minutes.

“Well, that was painful.” Jimin appears at my side.

“Where’s your stand?”

“Just over here.” He leads me over to the largest board in the centre of the room.

“How is it that you start the course late and you’re still centre?

“Because I’m the best,” he laughs. “I was only going to present a small exhibition, you know, a few shots from each shoot. But in the end, some of the picture were just too perfect to leave out, and the irregularity seemed to add to the effect of the overall display.”

“I’m really proud you, you know?” I sort of blurt out without thinking.

“Don’t get all mushy now. I know you want this whole scandal to be real because I’m gorgeous and irresistible…actually, it might get my family to contact me again…”

“No!” I take a huge step back. “Absolutely not. Remember what happened when I fell victim to the whims of my family?”

“You became the star of the centre showcase of the country’s greatest university Arts Exhibition?”

“I can see you’re not feeling particularly serious tonight.”

“Just try and enjoy yourself.” He curls an arm around my waist.

“Alright, we’re about to open the doors everybody,” one of the professors says into a microphone. “If you’d like to get ready to unveil your work.”

“You might want to let go of me now.” Jimin laughs again, going to adjust the cloth covering his stand. I back away, going to stand by a girl I don’t recognize, who seems to be having a little difficulty with her wall covering.

“Are you alright? Would you like some help?”

“Oh, Song Hyeji, hello.” She bows. “Yes please.” I tug gently at the other side of the sheet until it comes free. The cries of the media and excited guests flood the room. “Okay, you can drop it now. Thank you very much.”

The large painting underneath is incredible. It depicts the main university admin building, almost completely concealed by the gardens in the foreground. All of the natural colours have been replaced with bright neon paint, complimented very dark blues and purples. The mansion looks old and haunting, but at the same time  
hazardously radioactive. The girl giggles at my gawking expression, and I can’t find the words to compliment her.

“Wow, that turned out really well, Rosé.” We both turn to see Jennie approaching with Jin and Lisa.

“I think it’d look great in the main entrance foyer,” I say, when I find my voice.

“Really?” Rosé squeals. “You don’t think it’s a little too contemporary of that building?”

“Why should it be? Shouldn’t everyone be able to see the talent that we have here? Of course, the annual grade statistics are released , but no one ever gets to see the work that earns those grades.”

“Hyeji, have you seen Jimin’s exhibition?” Taehyung springs over to us closely resembling a puppy.

“You’d better go. He might explode, and I think Rosé might die if you say anything else,” Jennie laughs.

I let Taehyung lead me back to the centre of the room. A large group is gathered around his stand, cameras flashing, Jimin giving them all a smile I know isn’t real.

“Excuse me,” I clip pointedly from behind the crowd. They immediately part like the Red Sea so that I can get a clear view of the display.

From left to right, each panel shows photos from each different shoot, all mounted on floating canvases. The first are greyscale, the blank faced girl clutching her dress, a veil partially hiding her face. The next collection is also greyscale, apart from the red velvet of the throne that the girl is collapsed into, sometimes with her legs over the armrests, eventually her neck and arms hang limp as if drained of life. The third set were my least favourite to shoot, but now that I see them, all the stress was worth it. Colour splashes the cheeks of the girl’s contorted face, screwed up in pain. She lies on a marble floor, her body veiled in a thin black sheet, clearly displaying her spasming arms and legs.

I almost don’t want to look at the next few photos. This set is the smallest, only four photos on display. Her skin is completely coloured, though still pale, her hair flushed with a colour at the roots. They are all head shots, never depicting anything below the shoulders. With each shot, she turns her head to look at the final images. I know Jimin took my story as inspiration for his exhibition, but this seems so personal. I’m stripped of clothes and makeup. I almost hate it, but I can’t. Because that’s me, and hating myself doesn’t feel like an option anymore.

The last panel makes me smile, try as I might to keep a straight face. All of the little canvases come to together to make one life size image of a woman, of me, in a rose-gold chiffon dress, facing right, arms out just behind me, skin glowing in the sunlight. As much as I’d love to say that I’m there, I fear I’m still stuck in stage four. But still I smile, hoping that one day, I can reach her.

“We were really lucky with that sunlight, weren’t we?” Jimin says.

I nod. “Thanks for letting me keep that dress.”

“No problem.”

“Miss Song,” one of the reporters calls, a recording device thrust towards me. I turn to face her fully. “How does it feel to be the star of, not one, but two of the displays here tonight?”

“Two?” I frown. “I wasn’t aware I was the subject of two of them.”

“If you’d like to follow me,” Taehyung reappears at my side, Jimin standing on my other side, both with stupidly satisfied smirks on their lips.

“What have you two been hiding from me?” I demand as they guide me towards the far end of the Hall.

“We don’t know why he did it,” Jimin laughs.

“We figured you’d never have posed for it without telling anyone. It’s quite brilliant actually.” Taehyung eyes are wide.

“What’s…” I don’t get the chance to finish before a blaze of dark red catches my eye. “What in the world…?” I hurry forward ahead of them, forgetting the few press members still following us.

At first glance, it’s not as contemporarily beautiful as Jimin or Rosé’s artwork, but I can’t take my eyes off it.

It looks like it has been painted on broken plasterboard. Each piece, cut like a shard of shattered glass, is stuck in a mosaic, a couple of millimetres between the pieces of the painting. The despair in my eyes is scarily real, though there are no tears. The striking red is blood, the blood that seeps between my fingers and down my arms as my hands clutch my neck. I reach for my real neck, eye flickering to the ground, memories of what I had tried to do flashing in my mind. Knowing that my secret is on display for everyone to see, even though they don’t know it’s true, prevents me from look back at it.

“I…I feel sick.” Turning to my right, I flee the scene, weaving through the other displays, hoping that no cameras will catch me.

It’s freezing outside the Arts Building. I made the mistake of borrowing Jimin’s jacket when we walked from the dorms, but gave it back to him before anyone saw.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d hate it that much.” I swivel to see Jungkook, hands in his pockets, scuffing the bottom of his shoe on the ground.

“I don’t hate it. It’s actually very good. I just wasn’t expecting it, least from you.” I turn away from him, not wanting him to see my face when I say my next words. “I can’t believe it was you. After all the things you said, you seemed like the last person who would help me.”

“Well, I wasn’t just going to leave you to hurt yourself. I thought you were just ignoring me, until I heard you start screaming. Seeing you like that was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Why?” I frown, still with my back to him.

“Because of how you’ve been since we met on the first night here.” I hear him walk closer to me, feeling a little of his heat breathe on my bare shoulders. “I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you.”

I finally face him. “There you go again, telling me that you’re sorry.” Dropping his head, Jungkook fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket. “Thank you,” and he looks back up at me, bewildered.

“What?”

“I’m happier now than I have even been. If you hadn’t made me realize how miserable I was, I would still be all alone. So, I suppose I only have you to thank.”

Jungkook reaches down to take both of my hands. “But I hurt you so much,” he says, running his thumbs along the scars on my palms, scars that will probably be there forever. “How could you possibly forgive me after that?”

“I never blamed you.”

“God, you’re cold.” He lets of go my hands, takes off his jacket and wraps it around my goose-bump-covered shoulders. “I mean, the dress is nice, but at this time of year?” I snigger and drop my eyes. “The painting, I want you to have it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I painted it for you. Maybe I made it too personal, so I want you to have it. You can do whatever you want with it. Burn it if you like!”

“Oh, I could never do that; it’s too beautiful.”

“Of course it is; it’s got you in it.”

I don’t think either of us fully register what he said for a full minute. We just look at each other, wide-eyed. Breathing in, he pulls him bottom lip between his teeth. I shiver slightly under his jacket, pulling it tighter across my chest. With two fingers, he lifts my chin so that our faces are only a couple of inches from each other.

“You’re sober, right?” he rasps.

My stomach flips at this unfamiliar tone to his voice. “Yes, why?”

“And you’re okay with this?” He leans ever closer.

“The media…” I glance my eyes over to the building.

“Do you care about them?”

“No,” I whisper, my voice almost inaudible.

“Good.”

Placing his lips firmly on mine, I feel him pull on the lapels of his jacket to bring me closer to him, trapping my arms between my chest and his. Pushing them up, I cup his cheek with one hand and curl the other around the back of his neck.

It soon begins to feel like we’re locked in a battle of who wants this more. Jungkook kisses me hard, hungrily almost. I push back, determined not to back down. The feeling that I couldn’t place before feels like it’s exploding, my heart a frantic mess.

I’m the first to pull away. I didn’t want to but what just happened poses far more questions than it answers. “Wait, I don’t understand. I treated you like shit, threatened you, insulted your family; how could you possibly see me like…this?” I gesture between us.

“Yeah, you’re a bitch. But after what happened, I felt so bad, and every time I saw you, you looked worse.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, it’s just being around you made it more difficult to…And I wanted to do everything to fix things, even if it meant you went back to the way you used to be.” I can’t think of anything to say. “Oh, and speaking of that.” Jungkook reaches down to my waist, dipping into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here,” he smiles, and hands me a mobile phone.

“Whose is this?”

“Kim Namjoon’s.”

I gasp, stepping back. “I’m gonna kill Jimin! I told him not to-”

“He cares about you, and I’m his friend. Of course, he would ask me to help you.”

“But how did you even get this?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

Clutching the phone in my hands, I tap my nails against the blank screen. I have everything that could possibly threaten me in my hands, and I have no idea what to do with it.

“Aren’t you going to smash it?”

“No. If he’s smart, he’ll have a back up of the material. And who knows what we could find on this. No, we’ll keep it. Thank you for getting it for me.”

“You’re welcome. If there is anything else I can do, just say the word.”

“Well, you can start off by going back inside and actually standing with your exhibition.” I shrug the jacket off my shoulders and hand it back to him. “Oh, and one more thing. I’m really the one who should be saying sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things about your family. They clearly value you, and I’m not angry with them for quitting.”

He smiles warmly, resting one of his palms against my cheek. Kissing me, softly this time, he breathes a heavy sigh. I move to curl my arms around him, holding the heat of his body up to mine.

“Are you coming inside?” he mumbles against my lips.

I pull away. “I think I might stay out here for a moment. We can’t exactly be seen together.”

“Why not?”

“Because, as amazing as the painting is, if the media thinks that I’m with you instead of Jimin, it’ll go straight back to my mother-”

“Does it really matter-”

“Yes, Jungkook, it does. I have what I need now, and I don’t need anything else to make her think any worse of me.”

Jungkook sighs but seems to understand. Reluctantly, he disappears back into the Arts Building. I slip the phone into my clutch purse and rub my arms.

A smile creeps across my face. I know how stupid and impractical the whole situation is. But I’m finally happy, and for now, that’s enough for me.


	15. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start off by saying that I am so sorry that it has taken so long for me to write this chapter. I made the diabolical mistake of going straight into this fanfiction - so excited about writing it - with only half a plot. And when I came to the end of what plans I had, I was just so lost and didn't know how to keep things good.
> 
> Next, I would very much like to thank everyone who has continued to comment on this story. You're the ones who motivated me to take the time to get through a proper plan and continue writing. I have also been pretty busy with uni, but I think it is good that I have been able to take time out of that to work on this.
> 
> I can't promise any sort of upload schedule, because I don't know how much work I will have each week, and I tend to write when I'm in the flow of it so that I can produce something good. I am also always working on the playlist for this story; if you have any suggestions of songs that you think will fit, please do let me know! I can't promise they will make the final cut, but I really do need suggestions.
> 
> I'll let you go now. You certainly deserve to read something. It might not be the best, but I hope you enjoy it! My love always, and thank you so much again! ~ Slightly X

“Hey.”

I jump as I exit the classroom. “Jesus Christ, Jungkook. What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to ask you…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to do something?”

“You might have to be a little more specific.”

“I don’t know. I just, I still don’t feel like I’ve made it up to you.”

“Oh, Jungkook,” I sigh, walking towards the stairs. “I wish you wouldn’t keep going on about it. It’s fine.”

“No, no.” He stops me. “I’m serious. Let’s do something. Are you free this weekend?”

“Erm…I suppose so. What did you have in mind?”

“Do you have a car?”

I almost laugh. “You want to take me out in my own car?”

“You’re right, this sounds stupid.”

“No,” I smile up at his blushing face. “It’s very sweet. I’ll see if I can get my car brought up.”

“Okay. Listen, I have a class in fifteen minutes, so I’ll see you later.” He leans down and gives me a small peck on the cheek. I watch him walk away, trying not to smile as I trace a circle on my cheek.

“Oh, hello. What have we here? Is that a smile?” Someone grabs my shoulders. It’s Lisa. I drop my face into its usual bored grimace. “And were you just talking to Jeon Jungkook? Since when were you two so close?”

“If you say another word, no painkillers for you for the rest of your life.”

“Hey, Hyeji, what’s going on?” Taehyung appears. I should have known; recently the two of them have become joined at the hip.

“Nothing. I was just going to go to the library.”

“No, she wasn’t. She was talking to your friend, Jungkook.”

“Ooh, what did he say?”

“Nothing. Would you two just drop it?” I scowl.

“Just tell us what he said.”

Sighing at the realization that Lisa isn’t going to let this go until I tell her, I hitch up the bag on my shoulder and continue walking towards the stairs. “He just wanted to do something at the weekend.”

“Like a date?” Lisa squeals.

“It’s not a date. He just wanted to make up for…treating me…weird.” It’s still difficult to lie what happened. Even if I did trust the two of them, I’ll admit I’m still embarrassed about the whole thing.

“It sounds like a date to me,” Taehyung says in a sing-song voice.

“It’s not a date. Now, if you aren’t going to join me for dinner, I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.”

-

I circle the car around to the front of Jupiter Halls. Jungkook is already standing outside in a large coat, holding a rucksack. He puts it in the boot and opens the passenger door.

“Aren’t you getting out?” he asks.

I hesitate, unsure as to what he means. “You’re not driving my car,” I say, deadly serious.

“But it’s the newest model, and I’ve never driven one of these before.” My heart jumps a little at his adorable way of whining. He gives up quickly and gets in.

“Well, it was more practical than the McLaren.”

“You have a McLaren?!”

Smirking at the windscreen, I drive down to the gates of the university grounds. “Technically it’s not mine. I’m only allowed to drive it when my dad says that I can.”

Jungkook huffs bitterly. “Who even drives sports cars on the road?” he mutters, and I can’t help but laugh. “What? What’s so funny?”

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just,” I laugh through my words. “I am so spoiled.”

“Are you laughing at the fact that I’m poorer than you?” But he’s grinning too.

“So, where am I taking us?”

Jungkook gives me a few directions, guiding me out of the countryside and onto a wide duel carriageway. I haven’t driven for a while and, especially with everything else that has been going on, it is easy to forget how much other drivers annoy you.

“Oh, we’ve got ourselves a Yoon Jeonghan over here. Stay in your lane!” I yell at the red car in front of me, which hasn’t decided with of the two lanes it prefers, and wants to try them both out a couple of times in order to make the right choice.

A few minutes later, another car overtakes me on the inside lane and swerves in front of me. Slamming my fist on horn, I have half a mind to open all the windows as I scream, “Indicators, motherfucker, use them!” Jungkook sits back, half shocked, half amused by this. “Do you want to drive?!” I whisper-shriek, tensing my neck so that it arches towards him.

“I did offer. And did you know, just because everyone else is driving stupidly fast doesn’t mean you have to. My driving instructor always used to tell me to be my own driver.”

“Yes, and as ‘my own driver’, I have elected to drive,” I check the speedometer, “fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit.”

“And what’s the fine for that?” Jungkook seems to think he has me on this one.

“Nothing I can’t threaten my way out of.”

“If you take the next right turn and go straight for about a mile, we should get there.”

I do as he says, though I’m suddenly nervous about being alone somewhere unknown with somebody that I honestly know very little about. We stop on hillside, and I pull over onto the grass.

The landscape is breath-taking. A vast expanse of fields is spread out at the foot of the hill and, in the distance, I can see the outer suburbs of a city which must be beyond the horizon. When I turn the engine off, there is only the peaceful silence of being away from it all. There is a vaguely familiar feeling in the air of the world completely disappearing, leaving just Jungkook and I, but I can’t place where I have felt it before.

Jungkook opens the door, drawing my attention away from the spectacular view. He walks around the car and gets his rucksack out of the boot.

“I was planning on having this outside, but it’s too cold,” he says when he gets back into the passenger seat. Producing a gingham blanket, he throws it over the partition so that it covers both of our legs.

I can only stare at him in awe. No one has ever done anything like this for me, and it almost makes me cry. Perhaps he didn’t mean for it to be such a big thing, but it means so much to me. I have never felt so many things at once; bewilderment, gratitude, happiness, and I even allow myself to think that, maybe, there is a possibility that he might think of me as something more than a person he owes a favour to.

“I know, it’s not really the greatest thing, but it’s the best I could do at such short notice. I wasn’t sure you’d actually agree to it.” Jungkook hands me a box. “It might not be great, but I made it fresh this morning.”

I can’t hide the smile that claws its way across my lips. The box he hands me is warm, the metal chopsticks on top a contrast of cold.

“What’s the matter? You’re not saying anything.”

Looking down at the box in my lap, I scrunch my mouth up a little. “Thank you,” I mumble, a bashful heat rising in my cheeks.

“Jimin’s right about you; you’re just a softie inside.” Jungkook reaches out, like he wants to pat me on the head, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead, he brushes my cheek with the back of his index finger, making me blush far more fiercely.

We eat in silence for a while, watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky. It begins turning a beautiful orange-pink, diminishing the details on the few trees around us, making them appear like silhouettes against a watercolour background.

“I’ve got to bring Jimin up here,” I breathe. “He could take the most amazing photos.”

“You really have been taking care of him, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Right. Okay.”

-

I huff loudly, stopping the car just outside to gates to the university grounds, locking the doors before Jungkook can reach for the handle. “You haven’t spoken since we left. What the hell is wrong with you?”

He doesn’t look at me straight away. I stare out of the widescreen, piercing my lips and waiting for him to say something, anything. “Okay, this time I actually have no idea what I did wrong.”

Jungkook opens his mouth and closes it again. My patience begins to wear thin. Today could easily have been the greatest day of my life, and it just seems to take the piss that he has to ruin it in his silence.

“So, how you was your Christmas?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I undo my seat belt and shift my whole body to face him. “Are you actually fucking serious?”

“What? I’m just making conversation,” he shrugs, his face bitter.

“Okay.” I sit back in my seat facing the front. “Fine. I’ll just tell you how this is going to work. You’re not getting out of this car until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Jungkook sighs, but he’s an idiot if he things he can win any argument that he starts. “What’s the deal you and Jimin?”

I let out a short laugh, not quite believing my ears. “That’s what this is all about? Because I mentioned Jimin earlier? Is that it?”

“You spent like a month together, and then you come back to school and you’re all…different.”

“I’m different because you gave a me a much needed wake-up call. Jimin and I were friends as children, and there was a whole scandal with our parents.”

“Did anything happen?”

“Well, we just did work and then I helped him with the photoshoot…”

“But did anything…happen?” he probes.

“Why does it matter?”

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

“So what if something did happen?”

“What happened?”

“We slept together, okay? Are you happy?”

“You what?!” Jungkook is far more alarmed than I expected. “Why? How did that even happen? And why didn’t you say anything?”

“Honestly,” I quip, “I didn’t think that it was anyone else’s business. We were both having a hard time and it was nice to have a little bit of comfort for once. Is that okay with you?”

My glare has the same effect as it used to. He looked as though he might shout but he doesn’t. “No,” he says softly. “Do you like Jimin?” he asks after a moment.

“He’s my friend, of course I like him.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t like him like that. And he’s not interested in me.” I reach over and touch his knee. “And what about you? I heard you ran off with some girl at a party back in October.”

“You remember that?” Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up.

“No, but Jimin told me. I kind of understand why you go mad at me. I’m sorry I don’t what happened. I’m sure it was great.”

“Actually, it was so great that I was the one who had to stop it. But you were pretty forward.” A smug grin spreads across his face.

“Alright, alright. You’ve made your point.”

“So, I guess that’s it then.”

“What is?”

“We’re together now.”

“Is that right?”

“Well, I don’t want you sleeping with any other guys. In fact,” he looks me right in the eye, “I don’t want you even talking to guys. You’re not allowed to have friends anymore.”

“Yeah, shut up,” I laugh, starting up the car again and driving towards the gate.

“I’m serious! Yugyeom had better back off.”

“Please let me be there when you tell him that.”


	16. 16

“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asks from his desk.

I sit on one of the sofas in his living area, legs stretched out on the seats, laptop on my knees. “I’m looking through Namjoon’s phone.” I wave the device in the air, tugging slightly on the cable that attaches it to the laptop.

“Ooh, find anything interesting?”

“Well, the first thing I did was get rid of the things that he had on me, but you won’t believe the shit that he has on other people.”

“Anything on me?” He leans down over my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck.

“Nah, you aren’t rich enough,” I laugh lightly. Jungkook flicks my pony tail so that it hits my cheek. “You know I’m joking.”

He goes back to sit at his desk, and I continue to scroll through the pictures. Most of the dirt is on people in the university, nothing I think is particularly valuable, but things a megalomaniac would probably consider useful.

“You never did tell me how you got hold of his phone.”

He laughs. “I’m not sure you’d approve.”

“How bad could it be that I wouldn’t approve?”

“Hey, you have your secrets, I have mine.”

“Okay, well, whatever you did, I’m going to need you to do it again.”

“What!? Why?”

“Well, once I’ve scraped all of this crap off Namjoon’s phone, I’m going to restore the factory settings and get it back to him.”

“What good with that do?”

“I’m not so evil as to deprive him of basic means of communication, but I want him to know that however much he tries to cling to any inkling of power that he finds, anything and everything can been taken away from him. That no matter how hard he tries, he could never hope to be like me.”

“You are cruel, cruel woman, Song Hyeji.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

-

“What the fuck did you do with my phone?” I knew staying late to finish some work would bite me back. It just goes to show that if you actually try and progress in a place like this, you’re only kidding yourself.

“Let go of me!” I yanks my arm free of Namjoon’s grip.

The cleaners must have already come and gone because the lights in the Arts Building have been turned off and there is a faint scent of bleach in the air. The moonlight streaming from the skylight casts eerie shadows along the balcony corridors, steeping Namjoon dark expression in a ghostly shroud.

“I don’t know how you got my phone or how you decrypted it, but you’d better get all of my shit back or they’re be hell to pay.”

I scoff. “Oh? Will there?”

“I wouldn’t underestimate me, Miss Song. You’re very lucky to have gotten hold of my phone when you did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” and I make sure every word drips with a sickly sweet innocence.

“Don’t lie to me. You may be able to fool your so-called friends, and that drip that follows you around like a lost puppy. It’s painfully obvious that they only hang around you for your money.” Namjoon clicks his neck a couple of times and sniffs. “You’d better watch your back from now on, that’s all I’m saying.”

I let my face drop from a Cheshire grin to a dark glare. I latch onto his neck, pushing my thumb up into the ridge at the top of his neck. “That is a very serious accusation you are making. I swear on my family business that I had nothing to do with whatever happened with your pathetic blackmail material. But just remember, Mr Kim, that you no longer have anything on me.” I watch as his pupils dilate as he falls into the shadows, but not out of my gasp. “I think that you should be the one be the one to watch your back, or that’s all you’ll be saying.” Only when I have dragged out every last syllable, do I let go.

I don’t know when the day of judgement will come to pass and the comeuppance of my lie will fall on the fate of the family business, but for now I will enjoy his wheezing coughs that are almost drowned out by the pounding echo of my heels in the dark, empty hall. 

-

A couple of months go by, and the spring brings with it a much needed warmth. The gardens blossom from a brown and green to the bright pinks and yellows that I love about this season. And you may question my priorities but I can’t wait to get my spring/summer wardrobe brought up from home.

Jungkook and I often go back to our place on the hill. I even let him drive sometimes, because he only promises not to complain if I promise not to yell at other drivers.

However, though I hate myself for letting Namjoon’s words get under my skin, I often find myself searching for signs that my friends aren’t actually my friends at all. I haven’t allowed myself to believe it yet, but I fear it won’t take much proof to change my mind.

“I brought muffins!” Jennie cheers, placing a tin on the table, one particularly humid lunchtime in the dining hall.

“Ooh! First dibs!” I spider my fingers over the lid of the tin.

“Not if I get there first!” Jungkook tickles my waists, and I retract my hand sharply. He removes the lid and grabs a muffin, pushing the tin to the other side of the table so that I can’t reach it. 

But before I can protest, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. When I see the caller id, my heart sinks for a moment.

“Hyeji-eonnie, is everything alright?” Lisa asks.

“Yeah,” I say, not looking up from my phone. “It’s my father. He never calls me.” Getting up from the table, I feel the groups’ eyes trailing after me as I find a fairly deserted area of the dining room where I can take the call. “Hello?”

“Hyeji-ya? How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, father. But is everything okay with you.”

I hear him give a short laugh. “Yes, I realize this is a little unexpected. But something has happened.”

It’s becoming a little harder to breathe. Every possible disaster runs through my mind, and I almost dare not ask. “What…What is it?”

“It’s your mother, she’s been arrested.”


	17. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it has been so long since I have uploaded. I have just had so little drive for this story, but things are getting better, so I should be able to get more done soon!  
> ~ Love always, Slightly X

I must have been standing there for a good minute or so, trying to take in everything my father says, but it just sounds like muffled noise. Feeling hands grasp my shoulders, I almost drop my phone.

      “Hyeji-ya, is everything okay?” Jungkook turns my body a little to face his.

      “I…I’m not sure.” Telling my father that I’ll call him back, I hang up the phone and put it in my pocket. “I’m just…I think I need to sit down.”

      “Alright, well come back over and we can talk about it.” He curls an arm around my waist, but I instinctively pull away.

      “Not here, not in front of everyone.”

      “No, sorry, of course not. Let’s go.”

      I stumble along through the corridors, out onto the grounds and up the gravel track towards Jupiter Halls, the deepest of frowns on my brow. Not long after we leave the building, I consent to have Jungkook hold my arm and waist so that I don’t fall. My head spins rapidly as I recount all of the deeds my mother has committed in offence of others, but the list is so long that I can’t pick out which one in particular she should have been arrested for.

      “Do you want a drink of something?” Jungkook squeezes me tightly as we reach the bottom of the stairs in Jupiter Halls.

      I nod, but don’t speak. I fear if I open my mouth I will either scream or be sick. I fumble so much with the keys to my room that I drop them. But before I can bend to pick them up, Jungkook lets go of my waist and takes hold of my shoulders once more.

      “Hyeji-ya, I think you should stop for a moment. Breathe, just breathe for a second.” I obey, though unconsciously. Some part of me must know he is right, but it is certainly not my brain. I register to touch of his hand on my cheek, the soft press of his lips on my own, though they tremble. “Here, let me.” He picks up the keys and slides them into the lock. Instead of taking me to the sofas in my living area, he walks straight into my bedroom and sits me down on the bed. He bids me to wait, and returns with a glass of water.

      I would take the glass if my hands would stop shaking. I stare blankly at my wardrobe doors, trying to stop the feeling of the room spinning around me.

      I don’t hear the words as they fall from my mouth, though everything seems to stop when they do. “My mother has been arrested.”

      My vision comes into focus, and I look up at his face. He sets the glass on my bedside table and sits down beside me. Taking one of my hands in his, he speaks in low tones.

      “What can I do? Tell me.”

      “Do?!” I stand so violently that I stagger forwards to keep my balance. “Do? There is nothing anyone can do!”

      Still having hold my hand, Jungkook tries pull me to him. “Not for that women, for you.”

      “ _That woman…_ ” I snatch myself from his grasp, “ _That woman_ is my mother, I can’t just ignore what has happened to her.”

      “Why not? I saw what she did to you. She ruined you!”

      “She loved me! She raised me, fed me, taught me everything I know!”

      “Where has all this come from? I heard you myself when you said you hated her.”

      “I was drunk!”

      “You did a lot of things when you were drunk!”

      “You don’t understand! How could you? I will lose _everything_! My fortune, my home, my place here. My reputation is probably already fucked!”

      “Is that what matters to you?” After our heated argument, Jungkook’s soft voice sounds foreign, but my mouth won’t stop for a second.

      “The business will go to shit, our competitors will rise, and we will have lost!”

      Jungkook has hold of my shoulders again, and shakes me, anger in his eyes once more. “Do you have to win all the time? Do you always have to be on top?”

      “Do you know me at all?” I retort with equivalent rage. “How am I to live if I don’t have money? How is my family going to come back from this? My mother has potentially destroyed everything they have worked for.”

      “Then why are you defending her?”

      “Because she is my mother. I may not like her very much, but I do love her. That’s something I cannot help.” I move back over to the bed and pull one of my suitcases from beneath it.

      “What are you doing?”

      “I’m going home.”

      “You’re going home?”

      “That’s what I said,” I quip, matter-of-factly. Throwing the suitcase on the bed, I moved to open my wardrobe, but Jungkook slams his hand on the door.

      “Listen, you’re upset, you’re not thinking straight. I think you just need to sit down or have a nap, just so you have to time be rational about all this.”

      “Rational? Don’t patronize me!”

      “Just look at me for a second!”

      Breathing out slowly, I glare up into his eyes. “If you aren’t going to help me, get out,” I say, softly.

      “I’m just say-”

      “Get. Out.”

**-**

I barely sleep a wink that night, and so set off home early the next morning. It’s almost midday when I get home. I leave my car parked outside the mansion, slamming the door and walking up the steps to the entrance. Throwing open the main doors, I toss my car keys in the direction of Mr Lee.

      “My suitcase is in the boot. Go park the car and bring the case to my room,” I quip without even looking at him. “Where is Father?”

      “The lounge, my Lady.”

      Stalking through the foyer, the echo of me heels ringing through the halls, I throw open the door to the lounge. “What has she done now?”

      “Hyeji-ya,” my father stands to greet me. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home.”

      “Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting my mother to throw my future out of the window, and yet here we are.”

      “Maybe you should sit down.”

      I tense my neck, my head tilting upwards, heaving through my nose. With gritted teeth, I seethe, “tell me…what she did.”

      Father steps back and resumes his sitting position. Nervously, he gestures to the seat across from him; I oblige, lying back on the cushions, expectant of an explanation.

      “Your mother has been arrested on suspicion of maltreatment of staff and purposeful lack of acknowledgement of poor working conditions. One anonymous tip reached a health and safety inspector, and after that more workers started coming forwards, some even quitting their jobs.”

      “You’ve known about this for how long exactly? And you didn’t once think to mention it to me?” I should have known something like this would happen, so the growl in my voice is more directed towards myself than my father.

      “I didn’t want to worry you, sweetheart.”

      “Oh, I’m not worried. I’m angry. She should have seen this coming or else have found a way to keep our employees quiet.” My father only drops his head. I huff through my nose again, trying to keep myself together. “So, what happens now.”

      “Well, there will be a court date released soon. Several people are expected to testify against her. It was all in this morning’s newspaper. There are names and everything.” Father hands me a newspaper.

      I’m not surprised to see that she has made the front page. A large black and white photograph blotched half of the spread, depicting her thin, bony form being dragged out of the company building by two police officers. I scan through the text but only make it halfway down the page before my anger wanes and my heart sinks. ‘Many people have come forwards to testify against Song Hyesoo. Names include Wang Ruiji, and ex-employess both Mr and Mrs Jeon, whose sons attend university with Mrs Song’s daughter and heiress, Song Hyeji. We have no news on how young Hyeji-ssi is taking this news, but our sources within the university tell us that she has not been seen since yesterday lunchtime.’

      Apparently my mother is not simply content with ruining my future; she needs to wreck my relationships as well. I think back to the last thing I said to Jungkook, the way I rejected everything he said to comfort me. But it’s too late now, her work is done. There is no way I can take back what I’ve done, what I’ve said.

      “Is everything okay, Hyeji-ya? You haven’t spoken for a while.”

      A horrible realization drops into my mind like a bomb. Even if any of the people I call my friends do want to associate with me after this, I can’t let them. If they aren’t already, all eyes will be on me and my family. Mine and Jungkook’s relationship is as good as finished. As for the rest of them, I can’t be seen as sympathizing with the enemy, and be accused of going against my mother. She would never forgive me after that.

      _I love her,_ I tell myself. _She is my mother, I love her._ And if that means I have to sacrifice my own happiness, for my family and the business, I will. Because they are most important things.

      “Mr and Mrs Jeon, who quit back in October?”

      “Yes, I’m not looking forward to what they have to say. What about them?”

      “Well, I’m sort of…sleeping with their son.” I say it with all the monotony I can muster. Now matter what I felt, I can’t anymore. If my father suspects that our relationship is anything more than physical, he will encourage it, thinking it’ll help build bridges and even make me happy.

      His eyes widen and he looks away from me for a second. I can’t tell whether he is shocked at my actions or that this could cause problem with my mother’s case. If it be the latter, I won’t let it.

      “But that can stop. I don’t see how any associations with anyone can do any good now. I’ll make sure everyone keeps quiet about it.” It slips out before I realize my mistake. Why would anyone else know about us if we were only sleeping together? I don’t look at my father to gage his reaction, but he doesn’t say anything. “I suppose if there is nothing I can do here at present, I should head back to university and manage things from there.”

      “At least stay the night, and then you can drive back tomorrow afternoon. We may have more news by then.”

      With a single nod, I stand. “I want to shower and get changed before lunch.”

      “I’ll have it ready for when you’re done.”

      I leave the room without another word. It’s far worse than I thought it would be. If I could still be honest with myself, if I hadn’t already reattached the restraining bolt, I would cry. Everything has gone to shit, and although I know this is her fault, I can’t think like that anymore.

      I have to go back to the way I was. I will slip into her skin again, stitch up my wounds, piece the mirror back together, and turn myself to stone.


	18. HIATUS

Hello everyone!

I know that I haven't updated this story in so long, and I'm really sorry about my inactivity. And as you can see from the title, I have decided to put this story on hiatus.

If you didn't already know, I started this story without a complete game plan for it, and took a huge break to sort everything out. After that, I managed to post a bit more. However, at this point, I have pretty much lost my motivation to write this story.

I know that's such a pain. Trust me, I hate it too because I don't like leaving things unfinished, which leads me to tell you that I will definitely be finishing it, I just don't know when. When I have been able to sit down to write something, I have only be able to bash out a few lines and I can't link anything together. The last thing I want to do is give you a poorly written last few chapters, you guy deserve so much better.

At the moment, I am on my summer holidays, and I have been working on some other project that I am super passionate about. I want to focus my attention on those as I'm able to produce writing of a quality that I am happy with. I just feel a lot of pressure to write for all of the story that aren't done and because I was stupid enough to think that I could handle about five stories at once.

Again, I'm really sorry for being such an awful author. Please forgive my lack of motivation and organisation.

My love, always ~ Slightly X


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